A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action: It Takes One to Know One (Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management) 3031169859, 9783031169854

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Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management

Diego Otegui

A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action It Takes One to Know One

Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management Series Editor Diego Otegui, Imara Fondation Newark, DE, USA

Humanitarian action and emergency management are distinct complex social systems. They are, nonetheless, profoundly related, as they are both spaces where those concerned with the wellbeing of others converge. They have been of great interest to many scholars for decades. Still, there are many aspects of their practice that are rarely studied and only vaguely understood. The vast majority of existing literature is imbued with the point of view of those that produced it. The themes they cover depend on what each author considers necessary for the world to know. Consequently, what is known about these systems, does not represent all that needs to be known about it. Instead, it is the subject of someone else's research and what s/he thinks needs to be known. The challenge in understanding the true nature of humanitarian action and emergency management is the diversity of its essential parts. The voices of the people doing the work, we believe, are critical in working out how to articulate what constitutes them. With this series, we want to give humanitarian workers and emergency managers a chance to speak for themselves and present their divergent opinions. But many obstacles make it difficult for them to write a book that can simultaneously address the needs of scholars, publishing houses, and the general public. For instance, most of them enjoy very little time and peace of mind. Jumping from one disaster to another affects their ability and willingness to pause, reflect, and write. Also, many of them are not always well informed about the themes discussed in academia and international fora. To confront these challenges, the series' editor is a scholar himself and has many years of practical experience. The series also benefits from a mixed editorial board of highly renowned practitioners and scholars who offer interpretations of each book's accounts. This series, then, is not simply about sharing information. It attempts to help academic observers, humanitarian aid workers, emergency managers, and any interested persons in the general public learn how those involved in helping others practice their craft and experience their life within this unique space dedicated to meeting human needs. The series is interested in publishing the reflections of thoughtful practitioners and scholars. However, it also acknowledges the role of leaders of different sectors whose main responsibilities might not be directly related to humanitarian action or emergency management, but are nonetheless essential in defining the nature of both disciplines. With this in mind, the series also welcomes proposals from corporate executives, religious leaders, public officials and community representatives and others.

Diego Otegui

A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action It Takes One to Know One

Diego Otegui Crisis and Disaster Management Program University of Central Missouri Warrensburg, MO, USA

ISSN 2731-4839     ISSN 2731-4847 (electronic) Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management ISBN 978-3-031-16985-4    ISBN 978-3-031-16986-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

In the following pages, I present you with a story. I share with you an experience of my time in East Timor. There I met a little girl. She is, by far, the most important character in this book. She helped me open the doors to self-exploration, and by doing so, she helped me become the scholar I am today. Twenty years have passed since we met. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, if you ever get the chance to read these pages, I want you to know that you have a special place in my heart. I couldn’t have written this book without the support of my wife. She has been by my side for many years. She is the one that absorbed my anxiety, stress, and discomfort while I struggled to keep my ideas in order. She is the one that figured out how to give me hope and encouragement with her tender kisses. She is the one that didn’t think twice about leaving everything behind and embark with me on this fantastic adventure of moving to a foreign country with a little baby. I love you so much and will be eternally thankful for your support.

I also want to thank my mom and my dad. Without a doubt, it is thanks to them that I am the happy person that I am today. For 47 years, they showed me repeatedly that they are among the most caring, humble, sensitive, committed, and concerned parents on this planet. I love you deeply, and I thank you for loving me back. Needless to say, my biggest “thank you” is to my little girl, Luana (we call her Chopi). In these 7 years, I have seen her become the healthy, bright, and happy girl she is today. You are the one that helped me get out of bed on rainy days and made me smile with your contagious laughter. I want you to know that you are the joy of my life, and I dedicate this book to you.

Foreword

In June of 2022, I attended the FEMA Emergency Management Higher Education Symposium, as I typically do on an annual basis. During a session on international emergency management, several scholars and practitioners discussed the need to better comprehend the problems associated with global disasters and why we must increase our awareness of comparative approaches relating to mitigation, preparedness, response, and recovery. During the session, I had the privilege of conversing with Dr. Otegui. I was aware of Professor Otegui prior to our meeting in Emmitsburg, MD, but I’m embarrassed to say I was not as familiar with his important research as I would prefer. I have been involved in several major administrative positions over the past 15 years, including graduate program coordinator, associate dean, director of summer session, and dean. Such commitments have undoubtedly hindered my ability to engage in the literature and learn from other key leaders who make notable advancements in disaster scholarship. These barriers and mistakes have unfortunately limited my knowledge acquisition from intellectuals like Dr. Otegui. Luckily, I have since been able to communicate with him on various occasions about how we might collaborate in the future, and he invited me to write the foreword for this book. I accepted this opportunity and was excited to learn more about his research interests and academic contributions. What I quickly realized is that I was obviously missing useful knowledge that would help me better fulfill my responsibilities as a disaster scholar. In many ways, I think this is the central message of A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action: It Takes One to Know One. Specifically, those involved in humanitarian assistance may be so consumed with their own missions and priorities that they may not be interacting sufficiently with the true experts who can provide alternate perspectives on how to make relief operations and development programs more successful. After reading A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, I found Dr. Otegui’s work to be a unique take on humanitarian assistance because it is based on a remarkable combination of practical experience as well as theoretical acumen. Dr. Otegui has served for many years in various development, and disaster and relief positions vii

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in East Timor, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mozambique, and Trinidad and Tobago. He is also involved in many leadership positions on the boards of notable international associations worldwide. In addition, he has earned a doctoral degree from the University of Delaware under revered scholars affiliated with the renowned Disaster Research Center. He has studied humanitarian assistance for years and has published his articles in respected academic outlets. This blend of applied and academic perspectives is visible throughout A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action. The book consistently shares critical considerations about theoretical concepts and then illustrates their relation to concrete, real-world examples. For instance, the chapters in Dr. Otegui’s book help the reader understand several valuable observations about the “humanitarian machine,” which comprises people who want to help but are hampered because they often operate solely from a “northern” perspective. First, the convergence of assistance comes from the outside, which could constrain pertinence to the victims and survivors in disaster-affected countries. Second, international humanitarian workers and volunteers often possess an incomplete understanding or distrust of the locals and may fail to ask about and internalize local needs, preferences, and capabilities. Third, the interactions of humanitarian organizations and those impacted by disasters are characterized by tensions and contradictions due to the symbolic construction of meaning and a neglect of the applicability or inapplicability of standardized operating procedures in diverse disaster contexts. Fourth, the system set up by powerful humanitarian agencies may not always involve local parties as equal participants in the decision-­ making process, which logically affects them the most. Consequently, Dr. Otegui argues that a new vision for humanitarian action is needed – one which is founded on a full comprehension of what makes countries different and how the South can and must be a full and engaged partner in addressing immediate or long-term needs. Overall, I believe the reader will find A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action to be engaging and informative with an entertaining personal narrative, concrete definitions of key concepts, applicable analogies and examples, and insightful quotes from victims and aid workers. The summary of core ideas in useful textboxes also reinforce key lessons and principles from the important assertions throughout the book. In fact, I believe the core ideas segments are one of many great strengths of the book. In short, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action is a provocative examination of humanitarian action. The book causes the reader to think critically about disaster assistance and suggests alternative ways to make things better. Dr. Otegui should therefore be commended for his work. The students, professors, and practitioners who read his book will come away with a better understanding of why humanitarian assistance can be problematic at times and how the challenges can be overcome. By getting to know the culture and values of those who are affected by disasters and involving them more fully as respected partners,

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humanitarian workers can help to overcome the tragic challenges that others face and experience. Department of Emergency Services/ Center for National Security Studies, College of Health and Public Services Utah Valley University Orem, UT, USA

David McEntire

Preface

East Timor and the Origins of the Book Let me share with you a life-changing experience. It was so powerful that it even changed how I perceived the world. It even generated a conflict in my essential beliefs, most especially those associated with the role of our global society in times of disasters. That experience informed this book, and I want you to know it. It will help you understand the motivations and thought processes underneath these lines. The story took place in 2001. It was probably January or February. I remember it was hot outside. I went back home after work and received a strange call. I was only 25 years of age, still immature, I must say, with no understanding nor experience in emergency management, conflict, international relations, or any other related disciplines. I had finished my bachelor’s in economics a couple of years before, and that was it. I had traveled quite a bit since graduation but had minimal professional experience. I was, however, informed by the voice on the phone that the United Nations had selected me to perform as an electoral officer for the presidential elections in East Timor. For those who might not be familiar with the story, East Timor is a tiny island some miles away from the north shore of Australia. It used to belong to Indonesia. In 1999, a civil conflict broke out after a majority of eligible East Timorese voters chose independence in a United Nations-administered referendum. I still do not know why I was hired to do this job. I don’t even know what information the United Nations had about me and how they got it. It would be fair to say that my recruitment represents how the humanitarian machinery operates. It speaks of unorganized and disconnected processes. It speaks of poor planning and little interest in efficiency. It speaks of a way of doing things that cares about the ends but not so much about the means. I only had the distant dream of becoming a humanitarian worker back then. I had already been to a few countries and experienced suffering, but saying that I was prepared to face this challenge that was put upon me would be a lie. Nonetheless, I rushed to accept the job. I arrived in East Timor a few weeks later with nothing but xi

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a backpack and a few books, hoping for the best. I did a little bit of research before traveling, of course. I also didn’t know anything about elections or even civil rights. I had been told that I would help coordinate the electoral process, but that was that. In all honesty, I had no idea what that even meant. Everything indicated this was going to be a challenging mission. I learned that the country was poor, that it suffered from incredible levels of illiteracy, and had endured a horrific civil conflict that ended the lives of thousands of people. I didn’t go there because I was a committed humanitarian. Honestly, I didn’t even feel I had what was necessary to make the slightest difference. I already knew that my chances of helping were scarce. But I did believe in the mission. The sole idea of assisting a society transition into a democracy was fascinating. And at the end of the day, it was no other but the United Nations behind it. The differences between the communities and the intervening forces translated into what appeared to be a communications breakdown. I quickly learned that the problems were much more profound. As inexperienced as I was, it did not take much time to realize that the main problems resulted from clashing cultural, ideological, and spiritual differences between the local population and the converging international community. The entire experience was overwhelming and captivating, stressful though enjoyable in that it challenged me. It stole from me, for a while at least, my capacity to smile. But it also enlightened me into diving into disaster and humanitarian scholarship. My appreciation of things back then was, of course, constrained by my limited expertise and knowledge. But it was this same immaturity that pushed me to become intrigued about what it is that makes us the way we are. Even today, I still can’t stop thinking about the absurdity of the image that got stuck in my head so many years ago. An image with white experts from the Global North, wearing fancy suits, staying in very secured fenced compounds, driving super expensive trucks across tiny towns of only a couple of hundred families living in shacks made of wood and thatch. I started wondering about historically constructed realities, about why and how we perceive the world differently. The local people, the foreign experts, and I are all humans, but it was clear that the way we understood life was diametrically opposite. By the end of the mission, I was questioning if it was possible to reconcile the needs and wants of disaster-affected societies with the needs and wants of the countries of the Global North with vested geopolitical interests in the Global South. During one of the daily field trips, I met a young girl. She changed my life forever. She must have been 12 or 13 years of age. For a reason that is confusing even to this day, in a somewhat peaceful and docile manner, she shared with me the details of the most atrocious moment a young girl could experience. She spent a few minutes looking down at the dust floor of the shack where we were and graphically described how, during the civil war, she was forced to perform as a sex slave after members of her family were violently murdered with machetes. It took me years to understand the essence of the moment. Through my engagement in the study of epistemology, I realized that she provided me with knowledge. Not the kind of knowledge that you get in college, though. I am pretty sure that she was among the large group of young people on the island that had not had the

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chance to go to school. But even so, she somehow knew that by sharing her felt experience, she would allow me to have a revelation, to make sense of her world, hopefully in a similar way to hers. I belonged to the opposite side of the globe, and all that defined me – and still does – was so diametrically different from what defined her. For me, as for other emergency-related personnel, much more would have been needed to understand things the way she did. At some point, I realized that I was making sense of nothing but what I wanted to make sense of. It was my own definition of sense-making, and it was thus both biased and minimal. I am glad, though simultaneously embarrassed, to say it was not long ago that I finally understood this little girl’s “hidden” message for me. It was then that I decided to write this book. I don’t think she wanted me to know the facts. It was certainly not about that. Just learning about her past would not have made any difference. We all know these horrific things happen all over the world. It could not have been about feelings, either. Although I strongly empathized with her, the possibility that I shared her feelings accurately was inevitably non-existent. After years of reliving that moment in my head, I realized that she wanted me to understand that this had happened to her and that it would never happen to me. She tried to convince me that unique circumstances shape our realities differently and that we must have this distinction constantly present every time we step into someone else’s territory, even if the purpose is to help. My understanding of the episode has drastically changed since then, and these new interpretations inform this writing. I was just one of the thousands of individuals and organizations that rushed into the country after the conflict. Our convergence in East Timor was nothing but the outcome of the decisions made behind closed doors by executives and decision makers. I don’t doubt that their shared intention was to contribute to the well-being of the Timorese people. Leaders in the humanitarian sector, I still believe, are truthful to their conviction to care for and support people in need. But I know now that they also have to comply with the demands of their organizations and help accomplish their goals and missions. I also understand that leaders and organizations are deeply influenced by the higher-level value systems of the places where they come from. All I am trying to say is that my simplistic, heroic, romantic way of understanding humanitarian response disappeared along the way. I still believe that most humanitarians are honestly driven by their desire to help, but their passion doesn’t really translate into what disaster victims need and want. The goal of the book is to explain to you why. Writing this book has not been easy. I thought about it for many years, but I couldn’t quite figure out what I could produce that could be of value. I wanted to create a book that is unique but also easy to read. And because of my dual experience in humanitarian practice and academia, I decided I wanted to reach practitioners and scholars alike. I spent countless hours figuring out the content and the format. I first thought of writing as a practitioner and for practitioners. After all, I do have many years of experience in the field. I even consider myself a humanitarian at heart, to the point that my ultimate interest and goal is to help other humanitarians do a better job. But there is already a vast volume of information out there developed by very knowledgeable practitioners.

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I then thought of writing as a scholar. I figured that producing a book that is intellectually challenging, informed by science, and filled with academic literature would contribute to my professional development. After all, I am also a scholar myself, and I like, believe in, and support scientific production. But there is also already tons of scientific information developed by scholars and researchers that keeps growing daily. The issue with academic knowledge is that it continues to be very atomized and challenging to assemble. It is also influenced by institutional and disciplinary boundaries, and aspects of reality often escape the eyes of those who produce it. In summary, that challenge in front of me was monumental. I wanted to produce a book that was suitable for practitioners. To achieve this, I shared my stories, anecdotes, and experiences. Throughout the book, you will find references to my trips and missions around the world, including East Timor, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mozambique, and others. I also wanted to reach academia. And to achieve this, I wrote in a way that is somewhat detached and distant. The end product contains many citations. It also has many quotes that are part of the data set I collected during 7 years, including 5 in which I worked on my doctoral research. I also distributed some of my research findings in multiple chapters. I didn’t want to make the reading unnecessarily tricky or tedious, so I decided to share the research methods in the appendix at the end of the book. It will probably be of interest to my fellow scholars, but if you feel like having a look at it, you might end up with a more accurate idea of what it meant to produce this text. And so, you will find that the book contains an exciting combination of personal experiences and academic literature that informs it. My last challenge was that, as strange as it may sound, I didn’t want to write a factual book. I didn’t want it to be too objective. I was moved by a strong desire to share my own biased perceptions of what goes on at the core of one of the most honorable professions. The reason is that most of what the world knows about humanitarian action was produced by scholars and writers from the Global North. As someone from the Global South, I thought of trying to counterbalance the arguments and vantage points of what our world currently consumes. So, I decided to write in a way that felt personal. I wanted to let the readers know how I see the world in general and the world of humanitarian practice in particular. I wanted to provide my readers a sense of immersion, make them part of the story, share academic literature to help them learn, and share my own stories from the field. I also share reflections. But they are not regular reflections. They are the outcome of many years of hard, intellectually challenging work. The reflections you will find in this book are the reflections of the actual experiences of someone that spent many years in the field and dared to jump into the world of academia.

The Failure of the Meeting There are tons of issues with humanitarian response nowadays. I will present them and reflect on them throughout the book. But I would like to start by arguing that the common denominator of all problems in post-disaster contexts is rooted in

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something more profound and complex than just models, systems, and protocols, all themes that have been the center of attention for far too long (Diego 2020). The problems are related to how differently all those that come together when something terrible happens make sense of reality. Essentially, my most important claim is that to make humanitarian action more sensitive and relevant to those it seeks to help, we need to know how each participant understands that reality. This is reasonably simple. All that is required is an understanding of how societies develop and how this evolution affects organizations and individuals. I am being sarcastic, by the way. This is extraordinarily complex. As I said in the previous section, knowledge production is highly influenced, if not constrained, by disciplinary boundaries and political and societal boundaries. Consequently, available knowledge on humanitarian action or emergency management varies according to who produced it. Cultural anthropologists understand such complexities. They are well aware that to understand societies that are different from theirs, researchers must embrace the idea that they will never reach a sufficient understanding of the other’s culture. The simple reason is that they are outsiders. Those aspects that make societies different develop over time from the day of our birth. Imagine such challenges in a context where these many actors converge in a place of complete disruption. An appropriate way to think about the challenges ahead is to think about humanitarian action differently. Humanitarian action must not be considered an activity to provide aid. The focus has to be on societal reconstruction. When you think about humanitarian action this way, you will inevitably pay attention to many other things that are extremely important for community members that are not even understood, let alone considered by foreign actors. One such issue, for instance, is the role of value system stability in decision-making. Foreign actors that parachute themselves into an unknown place deliver assistance, assuming that those they serve are fully able to interact with foreign forces. Being this the case, their interpretation of responses to simple questions is inaccurate. It is reduced to paying attention to the words while the real meaning underneath those words remains concealed. This is because the value system and how those communities process information are affected. While writing this introductory section, I thought of explaining what the book would be about by sharing an anecdote. I returned to my photo album, trying to bring forward the memories of 2001 when I visited East Timor. I even tried to find a photograph of the girl I mentioned. I reviewed hundreds of pictures, trying to bring back every moment, action, and person in the hope of identifying her figure in the back. But I couldn’t. However, I found these two photographs taken only a few hours before I met her. I am sure she was among the small audience attending our meeting. Digital media had not impacted our world back then. I only carried a regular camera that functioned with a physical film, one of those roles you had to take to a particular store to reveal. The only place where you could buy one of those at that time while on a mission, (and only if you were lucky) was in a military compound. But for that, I had to travel several hours through rugged terrains, reason enough to be cautious

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with the number of photographs you took and put a lot of effort into capturing only those moments that would become memorable. Fortunately, both pictures have a strong significance for this book as they carry within them the essential aspects of the conflict that pushed me to write these lines today. You might think that post-disaster meetings are carried out among hundreds of people, surrounded by modern technological equipment, and representatives from different agencies. That is certainly not the case in the developing world. Post-­ disaster coordination occurs in numerous circumstances and contexts and among an incredible number of actors that gather to discuss the most diverse topics at different times and places. Sometimes, it is just a bunch of people sitting on the floor. In this case, even though the meeting was crucial, we only managed to assemble the people you can see in the pictures. It was me, my local colleague, the captain, and two representatives of the local population. The two images below were taken on a day we met to discuss important aspects of what would occur on election day. The goal of the meeting was to have an open conversation with the entire community. All individuals had to be able to express their feelings and ideas, I was told. As you can see in the photograph on the left, the room’s setup was inadequate, at least from the point of view of a Westerner. It was more appropriate for a presentation to political authorities. The photograph on the right shows a different angle of that same room. A few older women sat in the middle of the room, and some middle-aged men stood at the back. I don’t remember these women, but I suspect they were very respected.

With my partners during a meeting with the local leaders

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Local leaders at the meeting

To help ideas flow, I tried to change the room’s setup, bringing those in the back forward and making a circle so everyone would feel encouraged to participate and share their thoughts. I failed. The guy sitting on the far left is Delfin, my local counterpart. He spoke a little bit of English, and we were both assigned to work together. I remember him looking at me with a weird expression while I tried to make the changes to the room. By that time, we were almost friends, but he never approached me to tell me that what I was doing was culturally incorrect. They all just stared at me, trying to understand what I was trying to do. I even remember the captain of the Singaporean army, also in the middle of the picture, trying to help me. Of course, he also failed. The meeting went on, nonetheless. We asked several questions to the audience, and not once we received a response apart from the perceptions and understandings of the locals that were part of the “presenting party,” namely those in the picture on the left. During the meeting, we discussed many issues. We explained the methods used by the United Nations to ensure legitimacy in the electoral process, and we provided basic information about the main competing parties for the presidency. We also discussed issues related to security and planned a drill that was executed a few days later. We simulated an armed exchange in the exercise, and the Singaporean army made me evacuate inside a tank. When the meeting was over, the little girl approached me and cared enough to tell me about her horrific experience. The smile in the picture disappeared from my face, and I remained perplexed for a few days.

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What matters about this experience is quite simple. I just couldn’t make our audience come closer and sit in a circle. What matters is that there was an intangible but genuine barrier between us. What does this have to do with humanitarian action and institutional orders? You must be wondering. Well, the response is straightforward. It represents the impossibility of making groups of people from two different societies make sense of things similarly. In that meeting, it was not just us and them trying to coordinate our actions or reach a consensus on what and how things should happen. The meeting graphically represents the traditional way in which we unconsciously present ourselves to the rest and how the rest, in their humble, simple, and “underdeveloped” way (some might say), perceived us. Believe it or not, this meeting had representatives of every “institution”1 in society. The government was there, the Catholic church was there, the private sector was there, families were undoubtedly there, and the community was there. Some of these institutions were even simultaneously represented by the same person, such as with the case of the local priest that has a powerful saying in government matters. Each of these people was acting according to a long history of traditions, upbringing, education, and ways of being and behaving that we, outsiders, will never be able to comprehend fully. But even though this meeting represents all that, we just showed up talking about important things for them (we thought) and tried to “explain” things, regardless of our efforts to convert that meeting into a conversation. Elections day went on well and in an organized manner. Can I say that was a consequence of how “I managed to coordinate” my efforts with the rest? Most certainly not. So, the most crucial question is, how could I have done it better? Well, suppose you think about this meeting as just a sample of what post-disaster meetings are all around the world when members of different societies get together (even from the same organization). In that case, the response is way more complex than just coming up with “culturally sensitive” models or systems. Understanding the “failure of my meeting” when you have people converging from all parts of the world is something more profound than that. For these reasons, in this book, I decided to reflect on humanitarian action through the lens of a unique theoretical framework called institutional logics. I don’t want to overwhelm you with the specifics of the theory at this point. You will learn about it later on. I believe the institutional logics perspective provides a provocative way to understand society, as it is simple, sensitive to cultural differences, and aware of historical processes and power struggles. Warrensburg, MO, USA

 See the meaning of institution in Chap. 4.

1

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Reference Otegui, Diego. 2020. The concealed weaknesses of strong early warning systems. The case of Mexico. Scientific Papers of the Main School of Fire Service. Issue 74: 93–111. https://zeszytynaukowe-­sgsp.pl/resources/html/article/ details?id=206334

Acknowledgments

This book has been, by far, the most complex and intellectually challenging project that I have undertaken in my entire life. During these past years, I grew and became a much better professional. Most importantly, I became a better and a much happier person. But my success was only possible thanks to the hundreds of people that supported and guided me. To start with, I want to extend my gratitude to those who helped me during my doctoral studies and research. My most profound and highest appreciation goes to Dr. Joe Trainor. He has been by my side since the very beginning. He was my teacher, my adviser, the chair of my dissertation committee, and my mentor. He has spent countless hours with me, reviewing my work, guiding me through the academic environment, and advising me on issues far beyond his academic responsibility. He has proven to be an extraordinary professional and human being and has earned a special place in my heart. I also sincerely thank Dr. Benigno Aguirre, Dr. Dan Rich, and Dr. Kirsten Bookmiller for providing me with their continuous support, guidance, encouragement, and friendship from the very beginning of my doctoral studies. My gratitude also goes to the people at the Biden School and the Disaster Research Center. They have lent a hand and offered their kind support over the years. Dr. Maria Aristigueta, Dr. James Kendra, and Dr. Tricia Wachtendorf are at the top of this list. I thank them for having trusted me with a place in their programs and hearts. I pray that I was able to become the scholar that they hoped for. I especially thank Mr. Walter Cotte, Regional Director of the International Federation of the Red Cross, who provided critical support in my field research. My gratitude also goes to all who, directly or indirectly, lent their helping hand in this venture and all the people who selflessly offered to invest some of their little time to help me during my research. To all of them, thank you.

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Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    1 1.1 A Tribe in a Strange Land����������������������������������������������������������������    1 1.2 Finding Answers in a Doctoral Program������������������������������������������    4 1.3 Humanitarian Action Through a Different Lens ������������������������������    6 1.4 A Word on Methods��������������������������������������������������������������������������   10 1.5 Structure of the Book������������������������������������������������������������������������   12 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   13

2

Humanitarian Convergence��������������������������������������������������������������������   15 2.1 Focusing the Attention on Something Different ������������������������������   15 2.1.1 Concealed Noxious Effects��������������������������������������������������   15 2.1.2 We Now Relate Differently��������������������������������������������������   18 2.2 Whoever (Who)��������������������������������������������������������������������������������   22 2.3 Because They Feel Like It (Why) ����������������������������������������������������   25 2.4 Whatever They Want (What)������������������������������������������������������������   29 2.5 Here, There, and Beyond (Where)����������������������������������������������������   32 2.6 Working Together (How)������������������������������������������������������������������   34 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   38

3

Relational Humanitarianism������������������������������������������������������������������   43 3.1 The Reaction of the Value System����������������������������������������������������   43 3.2 A Matter of Perspective��������������������������������������������������������������������   47 3.2.1 Framing the Disaster ������������������������������������������������������������   47 3.2.2 Framing the Locals ��������������������������������������������������������������   51 3.2.3 Framing the Humanitarians��������������������������������������������������   55 3.3 A Matter of Evolution ����������������������������������������������������������������������   58 3.3.1 The Materialization Process��������������������������������������������������   58 3.3.2 The Externalization of Culture���������������������������������������������   62 3.4 The Convergence of Meaning ����������������������������������������������������������   64 3.4.1 Converging in Times of Absorption��������������������������������������   64

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Contents

3.4.2 The Previous Boundaries of the Humanitarian Space����������   67 3.4.3 Humanitarian Action as a Relational Discipline������������������   68 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   70 4

Institutional Humanitarianism ��������������������������������������������������������������   73 4.1 Battling to Reconcile Demands��������������������������������������������������������   73 4.2 Three Nested-Levels Humanitarian Demands����������������������������������   75 4.2.1 Societal Expectations������������������������������������������������������������   75 4.2.2 Organizational Requirements������������������������������������������������   76 4.2.3 Self-Imposed Pressures��������������������������������������������������������   76 4.3 Institutional Logics ��������������������������������������������������������������������������   77 4.3.1 Bringing Cognition into the Mix������������������������������������������   77 4.3.2 Institutions����������������������������������������������������������������������������   80 4.3.3 Reconciling Interpretations with Logics������������������������������   82 4.3.4 Logics in Tension������������������������������������������������������������������   85 4.4 A Symbolic Space of Action������������������������������������������������������������   87 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   90

5

 The Symbolic Response to Disasters������������������������������������������������������   93 5.1 Back in East Timor���������������������������������������������������������������������������   93 5.2 Incompatible Symbolic Responses ��������������������������������������������������   99 5.2.1 Institutional Maneuvering Space������������������������������������������   99 5.2.2 Symbolic Construction of the Deployment��������������������������  101 5.2.3 The Effects of Symbolic Attraction��������������������������������������  103 5.2.4 When Coping Mechanisms Fail��������������������������������������������  105 5.3 The Collision of Systems������������������������������������������������������������������  107 5.3.1 Symbolic Disconnections�����������������������������������������������������  107 5.3.2 Failed Multi-Culturalism������������������������������������������������������  110 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  111

6

 New Vision of Humanitarian Action��������������������������������������������������  113 A 6.1 Theoretical Implications ������������������������������������������������������������������  113 6.2 A Problem of Vision and Suggestions for Improvement������������������  115 6.3 A New Cadre of Leaders������������������������������������������������������������������  118 6.4 I Propose… ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  121 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  124

Appendix: Methods������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  127 References ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  145 Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  153

About the Author

Diego Otegui  Dr. Otegui was born in Argentina in 1974. He is Assistant Professor of Crisis and Disaster Management at the University of Central Missouri. He is an experienced practitioner. He participated in missions in several countries, including East Timor, the Democratic Republic of Congo, India, and Mozambique. He is also an acclaimed scholar. He received his PhD in disaster science and management from the University of Delaware. He has published in top scientific and academic journals and lectured at numerous conferences worldwide, including in the Netherlands, Korea, Ethiopia, India, and Mexico. He currently serves on the Board of Directors of the International Humanitarian Studies Association and is the US Representative for the University Network of the Americas for Disaster Risk Reduction. In his private practice, he is an international consultant, CEO of the Imara International Humanitarian Group, and executive director of the Imara Foundation. He currently lives in the United States with his wife and 7-year-old daughter. He plays the guitar, enjoys running and swimming, and is a member of the United Methodist Church.

xxv

Abbreviations

ALNAP Active Learning Network for Accountability and Performance in Humanitarian Action CHRGJ Center for Human Rights and Global Justice CHS Core Humanitarian Standard Alliance EERI Earthquake Engineering Research Institute IASC Inter-Agency Standing Committee ICRC International Committee of the Red Cross IFRC International Federation of the Red Cross NS National Society OCHA Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs PTSD Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder RCNS Red Crescent National Society RCS Red Crescent Society SCHR Steering Committee for Humanitarian Response SEA Sexual Exploitation and Abuse UN United Nations USAID United States Agency for International Development

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Chapter 1

Introduction

1.1 A Tribe in a Strange Land The general public tends to believe that all that is done under the banner of humanitarianism reflects the desire and unconditional willingness of people worldwide to put themselves at the service of others. For them, international post-disaster interventions are romantic and heroic; they are well-organized and efficient mechanisms through which rescue workers, humanitarian personnel, and other loving, tender, and good-hearted people leave everything behind to help those in need. Even the word “humanitarian” conveys one of humankind’s most appealing and honorable values. It embodies passion and commitment, the constant struggle and strives of those that dedicate themselves to doing good for others. It is both the channel and the tool to make this world a better and more livable place, the world in which each of us wants to live; a world of brotherhood, care, respect, and equality; a world that does not discriminate, that is blind to the color of the skin, to religious believes and sexual orientation; a world that is incapable of pre-judging and admires each human being for who they are. Regrettably, this is true only to some extent. The world is plagued with evil individuals willing to do whatever they can to profit, who care about nothing and no one but themselves. Humanitarian response is no different. Even though disasters are regularly associated with pain and despair, they create desirable opportunities that seduce the most distant vultures. But don’t get me wrong. This is only the book’s first page, and I don’t want to leave you with the impression that humanitarian action is appalling. When a disaster hits, good-hearted people do come together to provide aid. But to claim that everything with the word “humanitarian” in it is honorable and righteous seems an oversimplification. You will understand the point I am trying to make by reading today’s news. The front page of most newspapers constantly exposes a discouraging image of individualism and selfishness. It portrays a world with money as its central emblem and © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1_1

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1 Introduction

production and efficiency as the bar against which we measure societal progress. To think that what happens at the heart of post-disaster response is different and that all those involved are law-abiding and well-intentioned individuals are naïve. I didn’t learn this until I was already fully immersed in the sector. When I was young and still dreaming of becoming a humanitarian worker, I used to go to as many conferences and meetings as I could find. In one of those meetings, a top leader in the sector told me: “Don’t be silly. Not everybody is a humanitarian by heart. You have very selfish people out there.” His words were not well received. I was just taking my first baby steps into the humanitarian world, and the love and passion of other humanitarians was the main driving force to become a member of the community. Having someone telling me otherwise was just horrible. Most unfortunately, life showed me how right he was. As I continued my work, I learned of multiple instances in which those responsible for leading the distribution of aid acted in despicable ways. One such example happened many years ago and involved United Nations personnel in refugee camps, which I will describe later. More recently, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Government of Argentina was immersed in an awful scandal when the media exposed top corrupted and unethical officials cashing in favors and paying to be vaccinated before everyone else. These are facts and are well known to all, including humanitarians. However, the humanitarian sector appears to believe that the evidence is not enough; that these are nothing but isolated events that do not represent what humanitarian work is all about. Such ingenuousness has pushed us to build a global system on untested assumptions. That romantic rhetoric of the white/northern savior traveling the world to spare the poor’s lives is still so strong that it rejects all claims that humanitarian practice might instead be feeding on dark and murky forces. Luckily, things are changing. The adverse effects of the humanitarian practice are not only already an established theme of conversation among humanitarians, but the sector has already taken action to reduce the likelihood of inappropriate behavior from humanitarian workers. But there are other types of toxic effects, some invisible and tough to detect. Allow me to expand. One of the essential underlying ideas of distinguished and efficient humanitarian practice is that humanitarians must strive to understand the local community, connect with its members, and abide by their customs and ways of life. Most of the topics associated with this fall under “Localization.” And they try hard to do so. But regardless of how hard they try, humanitarians (especially those on a mission) are outsiders in a strange land. During the day, they work for hours alongside the local community. They get to know one another, and they become friends. But when the night comes, their options are reduced to staying within the comfort of the house where they live. Once they lock themselves inside, they have no choice but to be in almost complete isolation, surrounded by the misfortune of those they serve. After some time, they eventually become more than colleagues. They become part of a support system, members of a small tribe of confidants. They gather around the dinner table and spend countless hours sharing ideas, telling stories, chatting about feelings, and describing those past events that meant something to them.

1.1  A Tribe in a Strange Land

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Once you are a full member of the tribe, and if you are curious enough and pay attention, those stories become more than just stories. You will immerse yourself in them and unconsciously start looking for and finding similarities with your own. I don’t really know why this happens. I will venture to say that, at some level, we compare and compete with one another. But it is also possible that at a deeper level, we are just terrified. The isolation that humanitarians experience could be a reason that explains why they strive to find a point of reference to connect with those living in that community house. The point is that when you connect so deeply, you will be able to detect other layers of meaning and identify a pattern in the peculiar way they organize their discourses. Underneath their superficial representation of past facts, which they strive to transmit with clarity, tranquility, and assertion, you will notice that their expressions are structured around an imagery of the unknown, an imagery fully impregnated with subjectivities and biases, and even confusion and stress. There is something quite evident about this mental process if you think about it. When humanitarians learn of a new disaster, they somehow transmute into an entirely new individual, someone that is wholly compelled by the idea of helping. This total immersion into a “humanitarian mode” affects the way they understand their new reality in front of them. They suddenly find themselves trying to decipher the future while still applying the rules of the past. They are forced to figure out ways to ease the pain of people that exist in a plane unknown to them, but they have to do it in a way that portrays self-confidence and self-esteem. As strange as it may seem, this process is quite normal. Strange it would be to think that individuals with such responsibilities would be capable of performing in such unusual environments without a pinch of confusion and stress. But the environments in which humanitarians operate are so much more than just unusual, uncertain, or complicated. Furthermore, the adverse effects of the cognitive disorientation of that small tribe of outsiders are nothing but one of the many negative aspects of the humanitarian enterprise. Humanitarian practice is a global phenomenon that operates on the level of the tangible and visible as much as on the level of the intangible and invisible. Humanitarian action is not even a response to anything anymore. It is a piece of living machinery that feeds from the interlaced geopolitical interests of state and non-state actors. This machinery is led by a “northern” brain and implements well-oiled strategies to satisfy the interests of the rest. When I put my mind into reflection mode, I end up with this horrible feeling that humanitarian action is not even about the people in pain anymore. When it starts moving, it is a massive piece of machinery that hurts and hurts bad to the point that it corrupts the essence, nature, and even purpose of humanitarian action. But the pain it creates exists at a level few dares to explore. It exists at the level of symbols and cognition. It is about what it means to those in pain to be forced to receive a massive tribe of foreign people who, despite their presumed good intentions, go around the world, aiding in ways that are not sensitive to the local way of life.

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Box: Core Ideas – The Adverse Effects of Humanitarian Action Exist at the Level of Symbols To claim that everything with the word “humanitarian” in it is honorable and righteous seems an oversimplification. That romantic rhetoric of the white/ northern savior traveling the world to spare the poor’s lives is still so strong that it rejects all claims that humanitarian practice might instead be feeding on dark and murky forces. When humanitarians learn of a new disaster, they somehow transmute into an entirely new individual wholly compelled by the idea of helping. This total immersion into a “humanitarian mode” affects the way they understand their new reality in front of them. The adverse effects of their cognitive disorientation exist at the level of symbols.

1.2 Finding Answers in a Doctoral Program In 2014, nearly 12 years after my experience in East Timor, I realized that I would never be able to find an answer on my own. It was an irrefutable truth that my questions were way over my head. I reached out and talked to colleagues from many different disciplines and even to friends and family members. Some showed interest in my ideas, and most agreed on the importance of the embroilment that I was trying to untangle. But the hundred percent of them warned me about the challenges ahead. They were actually quite adamant about it. They agreed on the value of my crusade but doubted that my findings and the intellectual process would serve me in any way. I chose to disagree with their conclusion, but I did accept my limitations. Learning about how people worldwide understand the same reality differently was a complex enough topic. Figuring out a way to apply those ideas to improve one of the most grandiose disciplines in existence was plainly pretentious. I knew then that the only way I could get the tools I needed was to be courageous and extraordinarily patient. It was after this revelation that I resolved to embark on the journey. Shortly after, I decided to pursue my doctoral degree in Disaster Science and Management at the University of Delaware. I selected this program among the many offered in the United States because it combined aspects of the practical/managerial essence of post-disaster work with the rigor of the scientific method. Once you start your doctoral degree, you are encouraged to find someone that can lead you through the process. You need a knowledgeable advisor to guide you through the countless theories and bodies of knowledge in your field and polish the research question you will try to answer. It is only then that you can rise to the challenge and start working. I was lucky that Dr. Trainor accepted to work with me. During one of our first meetings, I explained to him my interest in dismantling and deciphering the causes and consequences of the noxious effects of international humanitarian action. He then invited me to provide some more precisions, which I did. With my experience

1.2  Finding Answers in a Doctoral Program

5

with the United Nations relatively still fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help wondering about the idea of humanitarian deployments. I asked myself how it was possible that humanitarian workers, such as those colleagues with whom I exchanged countless stories around the dinner table, who show so much confidence in themselves and in the work they do but are unknowingly stressed, confused, and lost, are even deployed around the world in the first place. Needless to say, the question was about myself. Shortly after starting my doctoral research, I found myself in an unknown space. I was carrying experiences from the world of practice, but the ideas in my head rambled in the world of abstraction. I realized that to understand how societies around the world give meaning to the realities they face, I had to explore and dive into the realm of epistemology and philosophy more broadly. After 5 years of strenuous intellectual work, I was more convinced than ever that the humanitarian machine behaves the way it does because there is a global expectation that it does so. In the eyes of our international community, providing any assistance, delivered in any way necessary, is good enough. But this expectation is unfortunately based on a dangerous and inaccurate assessment of what those “in need” really need. This was the focus of the 32nd Annual Meeting of the Active Learning Network for Accountability and Performance in Humanitarian Action (ALNAP) in 2019. I was finishing the fourth year of my doctoral degree, and I was invited to share a panel with other experts. The panel discussed how humanitarian action could respond to diverse perspectives and remain “relevant.” The concept of “relevance” that guided the conversation was accurately chosen. It drew attention to the idea that humanitarian action can be appropriate for the local population, but that does not necessarily mean it will be relevant (Beck, 2006). An organization, for instance, can respond with the delivery of food (which would be an appropriate response) but deliver a type of food that cannot be consumed (this would be an irrelevant response). This was an enlightening moment in my life when I was able to bring a very profound idea to a conscious level. Helping is not easy. It seems easy, and we all act as if it is easy, but it is not. As one of the few participants from the Global South in the meeting, I noticed that in the specific case of international humanitarian action, the idea of helping is additionally influenced by many stereotypes. When they see someone poor who lost the few things they had, they inadvertently react to what they conceive as an issue of “needs.” It is then that humanitarian action is reduced to a linear activity of delivering products and services. Humanitarian action is not just about the logistics involved in feeding or sheltering the poor. Even though it is still a common theme, the center of attention in humanitarian action is no longer in the organizational structures and mechanisms to guarantee accountability to donors and produce cost-effective interventions. These are increasingly seen as less critical than understanding if and how humanitarian action harms the people it intends to help. In my mind, this was a clear indication that the conversation was shifting. It is more profound; it is starting to include terms such as privilege, discrimination, inequality, insensitivity, oppression, and colonialism, that until not so long ago, were only used to refer to the contexts inside the countries where humanitarian action happens, but never to depict the relationship between humanitarians and survivors.

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1 Introduction

Box: Core Ideas – The Stereotype of People “in Need” To answer my questions, I decided to pursue my doctoral degree in Disaster Science and Management at the University of Delaware. My underlying concern was how it was possible that humanitarian workers that are unknowingly stressed, confused, and lost, are deployed around the world. The response would come from the realm of epistemology and philosophy more broadly. The humanitarian machine behaves the way it does because there is a global expectation that it does so, and it is highly influenced by stereotypes, including the idea that poor people are “in need.” It is then that humanitarian action is reduced to a linear activity of delivering products and services. Fortunately, it is starting to include terms such as privilege, discrimination, inequality, insensitivity, oppression, and colonialism.

1.3 Humanitarian Action Through a Different Lens This project was born out of my desire to know more about the negative, many times concealed, and understudied noxious effects of post-disaster relief. That concern eventually evolved, and the core idea that the book entertains is related to the meaning that human beings assign to relationships and how these relationships shape the format and even the very nature of humanitarian interventions. In other words, it discusses how humanitarian leaders and disaster victims understand the world around them. It pays particular attention and provides insights into how humanitarian actors relate to local populations and how their assessment of what is relevant to them affects their services. In a way, it explores and juxtaposes the different ways in which the clogs of this incredibly complex machinery understand life. Even though I tried, I couldn’t have written this book without putting the harmonious vision of humanitarian practice to the test. I wanted this book to contain both my personal views about humanitarian action (which are generally quite critical) as well as my research. But I did not want to do it in a way that is felt as a discredit to my fellow practitioners’ work and the hundreds of thousands of exceptional professionals that dedicate their lives to helping others. I also didn’t want to shock my readers. Talking about the adverse effects of humanitarian action is complex enough, and I tried to be careful to write this book in a way that wouldn’t discourage anybody from continuing their work or starting a career in humanitarian action. I hope I have succeeded. Having said this, I regret to inform you that portions of the content of the following pages might seem unpleasant. Some ideas and conclusions are easy to digest, while others might be difficult to understand (though scientifically appropriate). However, there are a few concepts and propositions that might sound defiant and provocative. If you feel that way, I apologize, but I want you to know that this is precisely the reaction I was looking for.

1.3  Humanitarian Action Through a Different Lens

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To start with, and at an elementary level, I contend that there is a different way of understanding humanitarian action. The book adds to current dilemmas by departing from the traditional view that considers humanitarian action a linear concrete human activity to distribute relief items to disaster victims. Instead, it proposes that there is benefit in re-defining it by focusing on the relationship between disaster victims and humanitarian actors on the ground (Otegui, 2021). In an article I published in 2019, for instance, I discuss the harms and benefits of considering gangs as essential elements of the humanitarian system. By shifting the argument, I invoke the idea that humanitarian action is also a cognitive process through which people worldwide choose to relate to those they consider to be in pain or disgrace. To support this proposition, I question some old presumptions that have driven humanitarian scholarship for many decades, such as that all those converging to the disaster are good-hearted and well-intentioned. This is important because the implications of what humanitarians do are directly correlated to the interests of those distributing assistance. In previous definitions, the relationship between both collectives was an implicit element, and the attention was placed on the aid recipients. By making the relation an explicit component of the definition, we force ourselves to focus our attention on the distribution. You might find this proposition quite stimulating, if not provoking. The reason is pretty simple and related to the idea that my research data strongly suggests that aid is not as important for disaster survivors. While humanitarians perceive the consequence of a disaster in terms of destruction and disruption, local people are relatively more concerned with other more ethereal aspects of human life. They certainly care about shelter, health, and food, but they also care about the happiness of their children, being respected, maintaining their identities, and establishing a spiritual connection with others who can feel the same things they do. These post-disaster aspects cannot be addressed with aid but with the way that support is delivered. In line with that idea, I also defy the assumption that humanitarian workers are qualified to operate in foreign contexts. As a matter of fact, I will argue that they might not ever be capable of doing so for the simple reason that most of them are not trained to think about the meaning of things. Following my research findings, I introduce a quite conflicting idea that I consider an unnoticed expression of modern international humanitarianism. I refer to the negative consequences of coordination efforts between those willing to provide assistance. These ideas, and many others that I present throughout the book, are a critique of current humanitarian action. All of them can actually be grouped under one elementary idea. The only way international humanitarian action can be everything that it can and must be is if it is fully driven by someone who understands how the local community sees reality. Even though “It Takes One to Know One” is a retort to an insult, it captures very well the essence of this book, which is that a member of the humanitarian tribe will never be able to know what goes inside the minds and hearts of those in need of assistance. The unequivocal implication of such challenging

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1 Introduction

propositions is that humanitarian action cannot and must not be driven by a foreign force. But there is an additional and alternative way of understanding the book’s title. The expression I chose means that someone must have a bad quality themselves if they can recognize it in others. Leaving the differences aside, contemporary humanitarian action is based on the idea that humanitarians can understand the needs of those they help. Ironically, their assessment is plagued with stereotypes and residues of colonial thinking. Being this so, we can consider their claim to understand “the other” as a reflection (confirmation) of that. If that is the case, the book’s title appropriately expresses that negative connotation. Developing all these ideas was not easy. I struggled quite a bit to figure out a way to study, understand and create something valuable regarding the relationship between both collectives, namely humanitarians and disaster victims. But I finally pulled it off, and I did it by exploring two complementary novel ideas. You will read about them quite extensively throughout the book. The first one is that human connections are a researchable theoretical construct. There is nothing really new about this, except for its application to understanding more about humanitarian actors and survivors’ interactions during a relief operation. The second one is that members of the many collectives who find each other in the aftermath of a disaster draw from multiple symbolic constructions when confronted with the need to elucidate what type of assistance they will provide. This cognitive process affects humanitarian decisions, including those that might feel right but are essentially wrong. This is the cornerstone of the entire book. By the time I was trying to unravel these unsettling ideas, I kept returning to my recollections of East Timor. And I moved through the entire research process and the writing of the book while trying to figure out what my Timorese friend, her relatives, and neighbors with whom I spent countless hours, might have felt when they had to put up with me for so many months. I was, after all, a white, young, indescribably inexperienced, immature, poorly qualified, absolutely clueless, and confused Latino with long dyed hair (see Fig. 1.1). I spent many months circulating neighboring villages, escorted by heavily armed officers from the Singaporean army, to instruct them how to vote on a “democratic” election, to select an individual from a bunch of individuals who had been finger pointed by the United Nations to become the new president. The lens that allows me to process all this information is called Institutional Logics. It is a robust theoretical framework that makes identifying and interpreting how individuals make sense of their reality easy. The central purpose of “seeing” humanitarian action through the alternative lens of institutional logic is to show that objective, verifiable post-disaster information is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition to design humanitarian interventions, let alone to assess their value and benefits. What drives this idea is that the way humanitarian leaders act in post-­disaster contexts is highly influenced by symbolic constructions that are historically and culturally determined. Being this so, all information becomes subjective and biased.

1.3  Humanitarian Action Through a Different Lens

9

Fig. 1.1  Delfin and Diego having a good time

The book does not try to understand the role played by symbolic constructions in humanitarian-related matters. It does not go that deep. It only tries to present a different view of international humanitarian action utilizing institutional logics and symbolic structures as a critical element that affects interpretation and the rationale behind global deployments. I am aware that my pretension is not easy, for the core ideas of this book contradict much of what we consider an established truth. My vision for this book is rooted in the belief that we all interpret reality in different ways but that there are certain aspects of the humanitarian endeavor that are most probably only known to those that have had such “life-changing” experiences such as mine, in the aftermath of a crisis in a cultural setting that is diametrically different to that of one’s own. I would dare to say that those who have not had the opportunity to travel and immerse themselves in other cultures might find it difficult to fully comprehend how the new sense-making process can affect our decisions. The ultimate purpose is to present humanitarian action through a different lens. But not just any other lens. One that enables the reader to tear old structures of knowledge apart and rethink the very nature of this fantastic profession by bringing the complex world of the individual into a discussion that generally considers the organization as the unit of analysis. It also attempts to encourage humanitarians to stop being compliant thinkers and at least open up to the possibility that humanitarian action perpetuates the vulnerability generated by existing systems of oppression. The task is not easy. Engaging in the study of a discipline like humanitarian action, using theories that confirm the existence of hidden, biased, and even illegal

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and unethical intentions might not be pleasant. But if such is the case, our responsibility and obligation as researchers and practitioners will be to deal with this new reality, mold it, and fabricate the necessary policies and regulations. Box: Core Ideas – A Lens to Understand Cognitive Processes The book pays attention and provides insights into how humanitarian actors relate to local populations and how their assessment of what is relevant to them affects their services. It departs from the traditional view that considers humanitarian action a linear human activity to distribute relief items and proposes that it is also a cognitive process. While humanitarians perceive the consequence of a disaster in terms of destruction and disruption, local people are relatively more concerned with other more ethereal aspects of human life like happiness, respect, and identity. Members of the humanitarian tribe will never be able to know what goes inside the minds and hearts of those in need of assistance. The unequivocal implication is that humanitarian action cannot and must not be driven by a foreign force. The central purpose of “seeing” humanitarian action through the alternative lens of institutional logic is to show that objective, verifiable post-disaster information is a necessary but not sufficient condition to design humanitarian interventions.

1.4 A Word on Methods Most of the underlying ideas of this book were born during my experience in East Timor. That was the very first time that I had the opportunity to feel like a humanitarian worker. I was on a critical mission, recruited by the United Nations, in a country that didn’t quite exist then. I carried those ideas with me until I started my doctoral program. At that point, I had to make some hard decisions. My mind was filled with doubts and questions, but responding to all of them was out of the question. Doctoral studies are not the place to find answers to save the world. They are the first step to becoming a scholar. As such, you are encouraged to choose the few topics that matter to you the most. Then, you leave most of your ideas behind and focus on learning how to research and find answers. It is then that those few topics became something more. As I moved through the program, I learned how to convert them into researchable theoretical constructs and adjust them to be part of the ongoing conversation among disaster scholars. But learning how to do that took me many years. During that time, my mind continued to be challenged. As I read the existing literature and tried connecting the dots, I came up with new research questions, developed tons of ideas, and was rightfully forced to question and get rid of the certainties that I brought from the world

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of practice and let the data speak by itself. Ultimately, the essential purpose of becoming a researcher is to distinguish between what we believe is true and what we know is true. It takes many years of hard intellectual work to do this. Academic knowledge differs from other types of knowledge in that it is produced rigorously and methodically. That doesn’t mean that other types of knowledge, such as beliefs or experiences, are not valid. On the contrary, they are precious. But even though they inform academic knowledge, they are not academic knowledge; consequently, there is very little to no space to make it available for public consumption. And so, during a doctoral program, you find yourself struggling with your desire to share your ideas and perceptions with the rest of the world and having to discard them to comply with the disciplinary boundaries of your academic community. I did what I had to do to become a good scholar, but I also chose not to give up. I focused my attention on producing good academic knowledge while I continued developing my own personal, biased, subjective ideas. By the time I graduated, I had nearly five hundred pages of knowledge. Two hundred and eighteen of them were my doctoral dissertation, seventy of which contained the findings of my research, divided into three chapters. One was already published in the International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction in 2021 under the title “Understanding the Cognitive Gap between Humanitarians and Survivors during Humanitarian Operations.” I will submit the other two chapters for publication as soon as I finish this book. Just in case you are interested in reading them, they will most likely be called “The Humanitarian Logic” and “Institutional Logics in the Humanitarian Space.” The other hundred and fifty pages contained the introduction, the methods section, the literature review, and others. The rest of the five hundred pages were full of text I wrote while working on my dissertation. They contained (in my view) great ideas, but they did not belong in a doctoral publication. I wanted the world to know the results of my research, but I felt that that work didn’t really capture everything that I am and believe in. I love academic research, and I am a true believer in the knowledge we can produce, but it forces you to remove everything you are, including your beliefs, personal experiences, reflections, and unique ways to understand how the world works. And right after you do this, you have to communicate your findings in an “academically appropriate” way. All your feelings, such as your anger, frustration, joy, and confusion, do not have a place in academic writing. So I figured that writing a book would be a good solution. And so I did. This book is essentially a mixture of all those five hundred pages. I removed the three chapters of findings, then spent nearly 2  years figuring out how to present the remaining of my doctoral dissertation and the other ideas and reflections. As a word of caution, you will find that some sections are filled with citations. Needless to say, they come from my dissertation. They might be somewhat dull, but believe me when I say they will help you understand the rest of the book much better. A few sections contain results and analysis from my research but were not included in my dissertation. Such is the case with Sect. 3.2 (A Matter of Perspective). One section comprises my interviewees’ quotations, followed by a small box. That box

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contains information about the “logics” I found in that data. The idea of “logic” is covered later on, but for the time being, it will suffice that you know that logic equates to “symbolic constructions” and that they “shape individual preferences and organizational interests as well as the repertoire of behaviors by which they may attain them” (Friedland & Alford, 1991, p. 232). It was not my intention to confuse you, but I chose to leave that information so you could see the application of the research methodology I used, which I included at the end of the book. To be faithful to my dissertation, I left the entire methods section untouched. Section 3.2.3 also contains the analysis of some quotations, but I do not reference the logics. I did this to let you see another way to apply the Institutional Logics framework using deep reflections to find concealed meaning. Institutional Logics is the theoretical framework that I used for my analysis. If you feel the ideas in those “academic sections” are unclear, I encourage you to read Chap. 4 and the methods section at the end of the book. Box: Core Ideas – Merging My Doctoral Dissertation with My Personal Views of the World The essential purpose of becoming a researcher is to distinguish between what we believe is true and what we know is true. During a doctoral program, you struggle with your desire to share your ideas and have to discard them to comply with the disciplinary boundaries of your academic community. I wanted the world to know the results of my research, but I felt that it didn’t really capture everything I am and believe in. This book contains a significant portion of my doctoral dissertation, personal reflections, and ways of seeing the world.

1.5 Structure of the Book The remaining of the book is made of five chapters. Some of them, such as Chaps. 2 and 4, are more academic, while Chaps. 3 and 5 contain reflections primarily. In Chap. 6, I present some conclusions and suggestions. All of them, however, refer to scholarly literature from different disciplines and have numerous references to my own experiences. I described a life-changing experience while deployed in East Timor in Chap. 1. I used it to show the challenges foreign humanitarian actors and the local population face when they find themselves forced to interact in such difficult circumstances. I continue this idea at the beginning of Chap. 2, where I explain with some more precision the adverse and noxious effects of massive humanitarian operations. I do this by introducing the construct of “convergence” coined by Fritz and Mathewson (1957). The chapter presents a collection of available research on humanitarian action and humanitarian convergence. While doing so, it argues that the adverse effects of humanitarian convergence are associated with the cognitive differences

References

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between foreign actors and the local people, who assign meaning to post-disaster reality in irreconcilable ways. Even though these profound differences are well known, the humanitarian sector continues to overestimate the value of standardized processes. Chapter 3 is a reaction to this predicament and reinforces that available local disaster response coping strategies depend on the collective conscience that springs from social interactions. Being this so, it introduces the reader to a new way of understanding humanitarian action and disaster response. I propose that humanitarian interventions are a practical activity in which many people choose to travel toward the disaster-impacted area to provide assistance, as much as it is a cognitive process through which people worldwide decide to relate to those they consider to be in pain or disgrace The framework that I selected to analyze humanitarian action is called Institutional Logics. It is introduced in Chap. 4 as a modern approach that allows us to understand the humanitarian world not as a discipline aimed at satisfying human needs but as a complex array of post-disaster decisions that are ingrained and based on the individualistic interpretations of humanitarian leaders. The lens focuses on humanitarians’ cognitive structure to understand reality and relate with local stakeholders. It is about the symbolic constructions (which are historically and culturally determined) that humanitarian leaders use to make sense of a post-disaster context. The last section of the chapter builds on the central idea of my doctoral research: how we relate to others is a process that is also highly influenced by symbolic constructions. This means that symbolic constructions are not used exclusively to process concrete and tangible information. They are also a reference point to make sense of those around us and how we relate. Chapter 5 revolves around how the interinstitutional systems of the humanitarians and local survivors connect in the aftermath of a disaster. It essentially discusses why and how both systems are incompatible and their implications for humanitarian interventions. This book ends on a high note with a chapter that presents important remarks and conclusions. It discusses the book’s contributions regarding the theoretical implications, including the benefits of studying humanitarian action as a cognitive process through which humanitarian actors choose how to relate and engage with those they want to help. It also emphasizes that humanitarian action needs to be guided by leaders capable of interpreting cognitive processes and understanding what makes societies different and the historical process they follow.

References Beck, T. 2006. Evaluating humanitarian action using the OECD-DAC criteria. London: ALNAP/ODI. Friedland, Roger, and Robert R. Alford. 1991. Bringing society back in: Symbols, practices, and institutional contradictions. In The new institutionalism in organizational analysis, ed. Walter W. Powell and Paul J. DiMaggio. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Fritz, Charles E., and J.H.  Mathewson. 1957. Convergence behavior in disaster: A problem in social control. A special report prepared for the Committee on Disaster Studies. Otegui, Diego. 2019, March. Can gangs play a role in providing relief? Humanitarian Alternatives, n°10: 100–109. http://alternatives-­humanitaires.org/en/2019/03/25/ can-­gangs-­play-­role-­providing-­relief/ ———. 2021. Understanding the cognitive gap between humanitarians and survivors during humanitarian operations. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 63. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2021.102427.

Chapter 2

Humanitarian Convergence

2.1 Focusing the Attention on Something Different 2.1.1 Concealed Noxious Effects You would be mistaken if you think there is nothing wrong with humanitarian action. The values that drive its individual members are essentially good. Its ultimate goal is also good. There is no doubt about that. But believe me when I say that the noxious effects of humanitarian and post-disaster response are way more significant and pervasive than you would expect. There are significant differences between poor and rich countries. And even though disasters affect emerging countries relatively more, their impact is somewhat different from how academia usually portrays it. It is helpful to think about layers to understand their real impact in the specific case of developing countries. At the very top, you have the more visible and direct effects of the event, such as the destruction of local infrastructure, the loss of livelihoods, the reduction of the markets, and the interruption of services, including government, law enforcement, and judicial system. With significant differences, in this sense, we could agree that the impact of disasters is somewhat similar all over the world. Right below, there is a second layer that is exclusive to economically challenged societies. The impact at this layer is related to the pre-existing flimsy way of life on which the harmful effects of the disaster put an incredible additional tension. Countries of the global south generally suffer from structural weaknesses that are rarely seen in countries of the north and are consequently only marginally understood. Government structures are inefficient and overly bureaucratic, security forces and law enforcement agencies are under-resourced, ill-prepared, and many times feared by the people, and large portions of the society live under alarming levels of poverty and marginality. In many developing countries, the rate of urbanization has © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1_2

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increased geometrically, making the post-disaster urban environment a field of operations that is puzzling, to say the least, for humanitarian actors. In the mind of a proactive and susceptible international humanitarian community, these two “layers” of conditions are sufficient to precipitate an intervention. But there is yet another layer of negative consequences exclusively related to foreign, external interventions. To understand this layer, it is a good idea to have in mind that on top of pre-existing structural vulnerability and disaster-generated disruptions, the local public machinery is strongly pressured to accept external support. There is nothing intrinsically wrong about this, the reader might think. What is the problem with more people and organizations bringing aid? The response is pretty simple. When this happens, the sense of urgency obstructs the adequate analysis of minimum requirements to filter and establish who will be invited to provide much-needed assistance. If this is the case, the aid provided and the channels and mechanisms it is provided will not be adequate. The apparent repercussion is that it will create an additional burden on the people. Probably one of the most widespread conceptions of what goes on after a disaster is that many people will take advantage of the confusion and disorder to steal and loot. That is not necessarily the case. The founding fathers of disaster science documented that looting and other more general types of antisocial behavior are actually rare in the aftermath of a disaster (Quarantelli 1994), and so “they should not be treated as potential threats” (Dynes et al. 1972, p. 49). But they did claim that if anti-social behavior occurred, “it will be done by outsiders rather than the impacted population itself” (Quarantelli 1982, p. 6). This assertion captures, to some extent, the very essence of this book. It pointed out that, differently from the shared global perception of the international humanitarian community, the convergence of foreign actors in a place impacted by a disaster doesn’t come free of complications. Despite its presumed noble intentions, the adverse outcomes of humanitarian practice can be found at multiple levels. Sometimes, they are somewhat trivial and superficial, such as the logistical problems caused by unsolicited material donations (Holguín-Veras et al. 2012; Neal 1994) and the additional food and shelter needed to accommodate the thousands of people that approach an impacted area (Quarantelli 1982). Some other times, the negative consequences are just unbearable. In June 2015, the Office of Internal Oversight Services of the United Nations released a report that contained information about the number of allegations that involve UN employees in sexual exploitation and abuse (SEA). Most of the allegations took place in the poorest countries in the world, where human suffering is just unimaginable, and 36% of them involved minors (United Nations 2015). One report on the 2010 Haiti Earthquake from the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice (CHRGJ) found that “14% of respondents reported that, since the earthquake, one or more members of their household had been victimized by either rape or unwanted touching or both (referred to together here as sexual violence)” (CHRGJ 2011, p. 5). It also found that “70 percent of respondents fear(ed) sexual violence more now than before the earthquake” (2011, p. 4). These are only two of the many faces of post-disaster violence. According to a report from the Canadian Red Cross, some of

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the determinants include social isolation and exclusion, harmful use of alcohol, and lack of protection systems, among others (Singh et al. 2012). A considerable portion of the research has also documented cases of corruption in the aftermath of international disasters (Leeson and Sobel 2008; Helmer and Deming 2011; Green 2005) in the format of diversion and misuse of aid, “when food, medicines, construction materials, and other items are sold for cash.” (Helmer and Deming 2011, p. 611). Helmer says: “The same is true about corruption and fraud in procurement, which may include collusion, favoritism, lack of transparency, fictitious bidders, bogus vendors, fake tender processes, overpricing, conflicts of interest, and lack of competition” (p. 611). Even though many scholars still agree that external support is beneficial, these examples show that the provision of external aid has adverse effects that can indeed offset those benefits. The examples also show that, in a situation plagued with human suffering, there is plenty of room for bad people to take advantage and receive the benefits of mismanaged response. As a matter of fact, the presence of people with dubious intentions or even criminals in a post-disaster context is far more common than one would hope or expect. But crime is not only committed by those who make crime a way of life. The immediate post-disaster short-term “pro-­ social” behavior that the literature has documented cannot be generalized, for it could very well be the product of biased reasoning or the wrong interpretation of the actions of isolated individuals. A wanted criminal can be momentarily good and help another citizen trapped under the rubble of a collapsed building in the same way that even those assigned to watch over and care for the most disadvantaged are capable of committing the most horrible crimes if the opportunity arises. The humanitarian community eventually reacted to this growing data, and in response, in 1991, the Council of Delegates of the Red Cross and Red Crescent called on the IFRC to convene a group of experts to elaborate a Code of Conduct. Three years later, in 1994, the code came to life with ten core articles. The first one is called “The Humanitarian Imperative Comes First” (IFRC and ICRC 1994). It states that receiving and offering humanitarian assistance is a right that all citizens of all countries should enjoy. Ten years after the birth of the code of conduct in 2004, the number of signatories was 289 humanitarian organizations, of which only 53 belong to Asia (39), Africa (14), and South and Central America (5) (Hilhorst 2005). Nearly another 20 years have passed since then, and the number of signatories has risen to 621, most of them being organizations from the global north. Interestingly, the number of humanitarian organizations with consultative status in the United Nations was 5161 as of November 2019.1 When I read these numbers, the first question that came to mind was, why? If there are strong indications that humanitarian interventions can inflict pain, what could explain that so many organizations choose not to sign a code of conduct whose primary purpose is to guarantee the delivery of assistance without inflicting

 Extracted from http://csonet.org/ on the 16 of November 2019.

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additional harm? Could it be considered an indication that organizations from the global south do not share its values? Could the response be that even one of the most presumably simple and widespread ideas of giving and receiving assistance means different things to different people? Humanitarian action is driven by honorable values; there is no doubt about that. But in my mind, these numbers clearly demonstrate that the central force that drives humanitarian efforts is not universal. The code of conduct (as with many other instruments) tried establishing a new standard in humanitarian action. It not only not achieved that, but it opened the door to the humanitarian space “to an unregulated register of […] self-selected organizations espousing an enormous variety of political, ideological, and religious beliefs” (Stockton 2003, p. 6). If you think about it, there is a certain logic to it, especially if you consider that the code of conduct and the humanitarian imperative were developed by the global north and the extent to which they have disregarded the claims of the south (Roepstorff 2020) and neglected their culture. The bottom line here is as follows. Humanitarian action is unquestionably driven by rich western countries of the global north, all of which are driven by a series of values. Unfailingly, these values are transferred to international spheres, such as the humanitarian space, and when this happens, although the goals they define, the strategies they develop, and the instruments they create to achieve them are obvious to them, they are not to the people of the Global South, nor they are to the individual members of that space. At an unconscious level, those strategies and instruments sometimes conflict. Such is the case with the “humanitarian imperative” and the “do no harm” principle (Anderson 1999). They are essential elements that drive humanitarian action, but they meet in quite an awkward place. The humanitarian imperative drives humanitarian actors to act, while the do-no-harm principle works as a counter-principle, encouraging them to be more reflective and thoughtful.

2.1.2 We Now Relate Differently You probably watched a movie called “The Beach,” starring Leonardo Di Caprio. If you didn’t, I highly recommend that you do. It portrays the point I am trying to make (and is also very entertaining). In the movie, a group of travelers finds a paradisiacal beach, wholly isolated from civilization. There were only a couple of hundred of them, and they managed to create a lovely, enviable, self-sufficient community. They were like a family. They loved each other, respected one another, had a good and efficient division of labor, and their social structures worked incredibly well. They worked a couple of hours a day, and they spent most of the remainder of the day having fun. At some point, one of them gets badly injured. The rest were in shock and did their best to help him out. They were stressed and sad but fully committed to helping him recover. In the following scenes, you can see some of them with miserable faces and looks of intolerance. They were reacting to the screams of their friend that could

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be heard in the back. Shortly after, they decided to carry the man to a different location, where they left him to die. A few moments later, joy took over the community again. Some of my colleagues will probably get angry at me for saying this, but the point of the story is that I consider that for the international community, the distribution of relief aid seems quite simple, and because of this, its negative consequences are regularly overlooked. I believe the reason is that humans are simply tired of dealing with such an overwhelming number of disaster events and humanitarian crises. At some point, our minds just want to take a break, and they subconsciously distance themselves from the sources of discomfort and focus their attention on more pleasant things. Keep in mind that I am not talking about individuals here but about the system. The problem with this natural attitude is that the more distant we are, the less capable we are of capturing the problems’ true nature. In the case of the movie, you might feel that the main controversy is about life and death, but it is not. Other layers of meaning remain concealed for those that do not pay attention. One of such layers is about societal definitions. It is about what a group of community members considers of value and what they are willing to do to achieve it. A correlated reaction happens when an unusual phenomenon develops into something usual. In such circumstances, the element of surprise disappears, and our fascination mutates into indifference. This happens in all aspects of life. It occurred to me not so long ago when I visited the Grand Canyon in Arizona. The moment I got there, I couldn’t breathe of the emotion. I was speechless. The following day not so much. On the third and last day of our trip, I was barely paying attention at all. We returned to the Grand Canyon, but I spent most of my time playing with my daughter. This happens with dreadful incidents in like manners, such as with disasters or humanitarian crises. It has already been several months since Russia invaded Ukraine. I vividly remember that I couldn’t stop watching the news during the first month or so. I would open different newspapers on the same day, take notes, and download articles about the history of the conflict. The following month not so much. Today, it feels like an absurd anomaly like an invasion, the crash of the cryptocurrencies or COVID-19, has matured into a regular affair, and the world is slowly moving on to confront other challenges. While doing so, global attention imperceptibly starts losing sight of what is essential. We now care more about how to guarantee the supply of gas than how it can be possible for a monster like Putin to become president. We now care more about how much money Elon Musk lost than trying to explain how an unregulated financial market can exist in the first place. Similarly, we also care more about the distribution of COVID-19 vaccines than what it meant to the Global South when they started copying the confinement policies of the Global North without considering its people’s pre-existing vulnerability. This is all just to say that it is not easy to keep attention. And this is especially true in the case of significant global phenomena. I believe that, to some extent, this is what is happening in the world of humanitarian action. We have unceasingly focused our thinking on improving aid delivery, and by doing so, we centered our energies on designing more efficient mechanisms. The problem is that we did this

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to the detriment of what things mean to those we try to help. The humanitarian sector indeed took ownership of the harm it inflicts on the people, but at some point, it deviated its minds from what was necessary. This probably happened in part because many humanitarians do not quite realize that humanitarian action is going once more through a significant change. Those more invested in keeping track of its evolution know that to understand humanitarian action, we must know its past (Davey et al. 2013, p. 1) because it “helps understand why it is the way it is today and helps identify how it can, and maybe should, change in the future” (Walker and Maxwell 2009, p. 13). But the complication is that many scholars associate its evolution with society’s reaction to specific disaster events. As such, the most significant periods of humanitarian action coincide with historical events (Davey et al. 2013). But that seems to not be the case anymore. Similar to what happened with the Russian invasion or the COVID-19 pandemic, humanitarian action has become a regular, expected, foreseeable, un-disrupting event. It has turned into another aspect of our daily lives, and because of this, instead of paying attention to what matters, we spend our energies on more frivolous and inconsequential matters. This happened partly because, over the past 30 years, the humanitarian sector experienced tremendous changes. It did start as a relatively simple act of helping a wounded warrior on the battlefield. But current humanitarian action is so much more than alleviating suffering. In only a few decades, it evolved “from a distinctive but narrow framework designed to mitigate the impact of war, into an organizing principle for foreign relations, led largely by the West” (Macrae 2002). It has taken on numerous new issues such as the displacement of people, conflict resolution, and climate change (Davey et al. 2013), supporting the market, improving governability, taking care of the environment, and others. It also expanded its attention to what is happening in urban settings and is now increasingly paying attention to the role of groups and collectives that were not originally part of the system, such as warlords and drug cartels (Otegui 2019). It has also evolved into a multi-billion dollar lightly regulated transnational enterprise. Unlike in the past, money flows through channels that did not exist before. On top of that, along with these changes came increased visibility, and a more knowledgeable global society has widely scrutinized the sector’s work methods. Even humanitarian workers’ motivations for entering the industry, something historically taken for granted, have been challenged and questioned. The main actors must satisfy more significant numbers of more diverse stakeholders, including the local population and victims, international organizations, and society. In summary, humanitarian action is everywhere because it responds to many events happening in many more places. It uses many more strategies and has many more shapes and formats because it expanded its attention to confront new problems, dilemmas, and threats. And it involves many more people because it welcomes non-traditional actors, and anybody with a self-perception of vested interest gets involved and does it. Inevitably, this evolution gave birth to a demand to develop new ways of studying and understanding humanitarian action. Humanitarian action is, once more,

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evolving into something different. This time, the metamorphosis is not a reaction to a crisis (at least not how we regularly understand crises). It is reacting to global pressures. Of all the changes the sector has endured, the one difference that matters the most and has interestingly received less attention, which happens to be the central element of the current reflective process, is that people worldwide now relate differently. This changes everything, and as simple as it sounds, the idea of helping now conceals existential difficulties. Acknowledging the toxic effects of humanitarian action took time, willingness, and lots of introspection. Since its inception, the global community learned to passively accept and coexist with a very simplistic though deceitful definition that focused attention on the delivery of relief items. Helping people in a post-disaster context was thus reduced to a task. The role of beliefs, principles, and societal norms received little to no attention. The global community chose and focused on the shiny aspects of aid, and the more profound ideas that feed this global phenomenon were lost behind an illusion. My experiences in the field of humanitarian response helped me become acquainted with the enormous gap between the real urgent and critical needs of those that a disaster had impacted and the propositions of need that emerged from the international “humanitarian” space. This gap is very much influenced by how leaders and decision-makers apply symbolic constructions. But present-day scholarship fails to consider the symbolic structures that humanitarians and disaster survivors use to process information and make sense of their new post-disaster reality and how their interpretations, in turn, affect the complex relationship between the two. The question that we must respond to, which is haunting scholars and practitioners alike, is what goes on at the core of human interpretation. What is it that they see when they see? The response can only come from a layer of analysis left un-­ scrutinized. This is the layer of symbolic constructions. Box: Core Ideas – It Is Time to Pay Attention to Human Interpretation In the eyes of the Global North, the distribution of relief aid seems quite simple. Consequently, its noxious effects are regularly overlooked and way more significant and pervasive than you would expect Humanitarian action has become a regular, expected, foreseeable, un-­ disrupting event. It has turned into another aspect of our daily lives, and because of this, instead of paying attention to what matters to the people it tries to help, it spends its energies on more frivolous and inconsequential matters. But it is slowly evolving into something different. It is reacting to global pressures, the most important of which is that now, people worldwide relate differently. The question that we must respond to is what goes on at the core of human interpretation. What is it that they see when they see? The response can only come from a layer of analysis left un-scrutinized. This is the layer of symbolic constructions.

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2.2 Whoever (Who) What is humanitarianism anyway? Over the years, it has been defined in numerous ways. According to Rességuier (2018), its goal is to save lives, alleviate suffering, and protect and maintain human dignity. For Weiss, the objective of humanitarian undertakings is to “help people whose lives are at grave risk, irrespective of who they are, or where they are located, or why they are in need (2013). Others have said it is the “desire to prevent and alleviate human suffering wherever it happens” (CHS Alliance et al. 2014, p. 2). Regardless of their content, definitions are essentially an intellectual effort to capture the very nature of things. In the case of humanitarian action, most definitions refer to a distinctive set of values that exist in a symbolic space and that informs how those interested in providing aid connect and relate to those in need of that aid. These values are so strong and vital, to the point that humanitarian interventions have unquestionably become one of the most remarkable global human behavior. However, one of the main goals of this book is to challenge these values and the main ideas underneath them. But to begin with this daunting task, I have to first object to the term itself, as it is not helpful for this conversation. A few pages back, I said: “The general public tends to believe that all that is done under the banner of humanitarianism reflects the desire and unconditional willingness of people worldwide to put themselves at the service of others. For them, international post-disaster interventions are romantic and heroic.” This is precisely why the term might be misleading. Because humanitarian action is much more complex than that. So as the first word of caution, even though I have, and will be using the term humanitarian extensively, reducing the phenomenon to this particular single term, might create confusion and even deviate us from the points I am trying to get across. In my previous book, “The Humanitarian Machine,” I argue that it is more practical to conceive the “phenomenon” as a Machine, “a giant entity doing amazing superhero tasks as it works to alleviate suffering worldwide. But like any gigantic creature it also makes missteps, stumbles, causes unintended damage” (Otegui & Yoder-Bontrager 2021, preface). The humanitarian response happens to be the most visible part of the humanitarian machine, but it is certainly not the only one. Furthermore, it is made of many other more minor elements, all of which will be covered throughout the chapter. In this first section, I will focus my attention on Who? Who exactly are those humanitarian actors? Who can be said to be a part of the humanitarian space? The simple and genuine response is: whoever wants it. Let me explain why. To most people, humanitarian intervention is a practical and tangible activity in which many people choose to travel toward the disaster-impacted area to provide assistance. To reflect and study this curious aspect of post-disaster human behavior, disaster scientists started applying the term “convergence.” This is a long-studied theoretical construct in the disaster literature, and it started many decades ago when the first generation of disaster scholars, contrary to the familiar imagery of people fleeing from the disaster site, found that after a disaster hits, many people tend to move toward it instead (Quarantelli 1982).

2.2  Whoever (Who)

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This book is interested in the questionable impacts of humanitarian response operations, and to address this concern, it essentially focuses on the relationship between those in need of assistance and those willing to provide it. We could consequently agree that my concern is reduced to why convergence happens in the first place and its implications once those that converge interact with the local population. The term originally comes from the body of knowledge on collective behavior, a work of sociologists concerned with the interaction among individuals who make up a crowd or social movement (Turner and Lewis 1993). Eventually, the notion jumped into the world of disaster studies that have been used extensively since then. The first report of convergence was actually identified over 100 years ago by Samuel Prince (1920) in his book about the Halifax explosion of 1917 (Scanlon 1988). But Fritz and Mathewson (1957) coined the term and brought attention to it. In their work, they offered the following definition: “movement or inclination and approach toward a particular point’ by interested and impacted individuals or groups” (p. 3), or as the “actual physical movement of persons on foot, by auto or other vehicles” (p. 4). Convergence can be divided into organized and unorganized convergence. Organized convergence is mainly made of organizations from different sectors, such as government agencies, church-based groups, volunteer organizations, U.N., multilateral organizations, and private companies (Holguín-Veras et  al. 2007; Paul 2019), from both affected as well as non-affected countries (Paul 2019). Despite its diversity, especially in international contexts, a considerable portion of organized convergence are well-established western-based, non-state actors (Older 2019). Even though many have poor intervention strategies (Older 2019), most can be included in four groups: the military, governments, civil police, and NGOs (Schoenhaus 2003). Presently, humanitarian action includes so many more people. Those who consider a disaster affects them in one way or another, share a hyper-sensitive feeling of legitimacy and appropriation. These are strong feelings that lead them to react and engage. This type of response is better understood as the community’s response (Barton 1962), as it is driven by impetus and not necessarily integrated into the more organized system. Some of these individuals even gather in small groups and have generated a marked increase in convergence in the format of smaller organizations known as MONGOs (My Own NGO) (Polman 2013). This is called unorganized convergence and includes the mobilization of isolated individuals. Over the years, as scientific research increased, convergence proved to be a salient and massive characteristic of local as well as international post-disaster behavior (Fritz and Mathewson 1957; Cone et al. 2003; Neal 1994; Bevc et al. 2009) and proved to be extensive both within and across borders. Already in 1952, after a tornado in Arkansas in the United States, for example, it was recorded that police officers said that 2 days after the event, cars lined bumper to bumper for 10 miles (Fritz and Mathewson 1957). Scanlon (1992) noticed a similar thing during a fire of 14 million rubber tires that lasted 17  days in Ontario, Canada. Apart from the usually recorded disaster-related personnel, he pointed out farm residents, work crews, plumbers, a helicopter and crew from the Department

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of National Defense, private contractors, staff from a trucking company, scientists from McMaster University, and salespeople. When a disaster affects regions across borders, people arrive from all corners of the world. Chia (2007) reported that in the aftermath of the tsunami of 2004, approximately 700 nongovernmental organizations showed up, coming from 40 different countries. In the Haiti earthquake of 2010, there was an incursion of nearly 2000 rescuers from Britain, Canada, the Dominican Republic, Argentina, the United States, China, Iceland, and many other countries (Paul 2011). In the aftermath of the Indian Ocean Tsunami in December 2004, over 200 international organizations (IFRC and RCS 1994) reported arriving in the area in less than 15 days. In that case, scholars referred to this convergence as a “second tsunami” (Fernando and Hilhorst 2006) Even though the word conveys a simple and manageable idea, and its reasonably innocuous designation has proven to be beneficial to studying the movement of people, its “narrow” definition might mislead us to oversimplify what has proven to be an extremely complex issue. After all, humanitarian action is much more than the physical displacement of people from one point to another. This is to say that in its current form, the construct of convergence does not necessarily let us advance our knowledge of the rich, profound, vast, and picturesque spectrum of human activity that springs as a consequence of humanitarian crises. The construct has been almost exclusively applied from the vantage point of disaster scientists, who have traditionally used it to study the un-planned and unaffiliated disaster response. This type of response mainly refers to individual citizens with no organizational affiliation (Holguín-Veras et al. 2007; Paul 2019) that chose to go toward a disaster-impacted area on their own. Humanitarian action, however, undeniably shares some of the unstructured traits of the traditional disaster convergence because humanitarian operations are no longer exclusively the outcome of planned organizational responses. As a matter of fact, the global community’s response to humanitarian crises, either those originating from natural disasters or complex emergencies, can in many ways resemble a spontaneous and unstructured response (U.N. 2005) as has been the focus of related work from collective behavior. To increase its theoretical power, I expanded it into “humanitarian convergence.” This is nothing but an extension of the original term. It still refers to unaffiliated individuals (Otegui 2019) that are not necessarily related to the response but also incorporate traditional humanitarian actors. The purpose of developing this extension is to have a way to portray the complex nuance of post-disaster humanitarian behavior and to capture the movement of the people that provide relief, but also others involved in other activities. Under this new denomination, we could include, for instance, political leaders meeting to discuss the causes and consequences of the event, family members worried about their loved ones who get together to support each other, or administrators from nearby facilities preparing to receive possible evacuees. We could also include corporate officials defining strategies to continue the operation of their businesses, scientists interested in collecting data, congregations gathering to pray for the victims, and so on, as well as traditional humanitarian organizations.

2.3  Because They Feel Like It (Why)

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Box: Core Ideas – The Construct of “Convergence” Humanitarian intervention is a practical and tangible activity in which many people choose to travel toward the disaster-impacted area to provide assistance. To refer to this phenomenon, Fritz and Mathewson (1957) coined the term “convergence” and offered the following definition: “movement or inclination and approach toward a particular point’ by interested and impacted individuals or groups” (p. 3). This book is interested in the questionable impacts of humanitarian response, and to address this concern, it essentially focuses on the relationship between those in need of assistance and those who travel to provide it. The main concern is reduced to why convergence happens in the first place and its implications once those that converge interact with the local population.

2.3 Because They Feel Like It (Why) We know now that humanitarian action involves many more people than just those acting under the framework of a well-established organization. With the growing number of disaster events perceived to produce humanitarian needs and the increased sensitivity of the global community, almost anybody who feels a sense of legitimacy can travel around the world and automatically become a humanitarian worker. The big question that we now have to answer is why? Why would someone go toward a disaster? If your initial reaction is “to help,” that means you are among the many who consider that assisting is the underlying motivation of those “crazy people” who choose to put themselves in the path of “danger.” This impression that the movement toward a disaster is almost exclusively associated with a desire to aid was born from the actions of the first humanitarians, who were purely motivated to reduce human suffering (Davey et  al. 2013). This impression was factual as it was appropriately based on what was happening in the field; hundreds and thousands of people were coming together, willing to help in multiple ways. Some distributed food and water, others cared for the wounded and delivered medical assistance, and others helped reconstruct the infrastructure. In some cases, those “converging hands” were even willing to engage in the most shocking tasks, such as searching for dead bodies (Osborne and Scanlon 1992). This continued for many years. Until then, most of what was known about why people would take the initiative to approach a disaster-impacted area came from stories from the field, reports, or the media. Fritz and Mathewson (1957) were among the first to study the phenomenon scientifically. Interestingly, their prestigious research established that providing assistance was only one of five possible motivations. They were called: (1) the helpers, (2) the anxious, (3) the returnees, (4) the curious, and (5) the exploiters. Let us review them one by one, but before doing so, I would like to bring to the attention

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that Fritz and Mathewson wrote their visionary book “Convergence Behavior in Disaster” in 1957. Our world was not as global as it is today, and they primarily focused on domestic convergence. • The helpers are probably the category that requires less explanation. In their research, they found that the initial convergence is made by those that try to locate and assist members of their own families. They called this type of convergence “intimacy of relationship.” • The previous category is called “anxious” because it refers to the feeling of those not directly affected by the disaster but that are concerned over the whereabouts and condition of their loved ones. • Following the first ideas of this section, they found that not all people approaching the disaster site are outsiders coming to aid. In many cases, among that large volume of people, there will be disaster survivors who had left and decided to return to their homes. They were called “returnees.” • Some people might not even be interested in assisting others, but they choose to come closer because they want to see what is happening. They called this category “the curious.” • Lastly, the “exploiters” is almost a self-explanatory category, for it refers to the convergence of any individual that chooses to approach the disaster site seeking private gain. Kendra and Wachtendorf (2003) later extended the list and added two additional typologies. • The supporters are either individuals or groups who gather to encourage and express gratitude to emergency workers. • The mourners and memorializers are those that go to diverse locations to light candles, create memorials, and mourn the dead. These categories have helped scholars make substantial contributions to the disaster literature and are undoubtedly helpful in appraising what goes on in the minds of convergers. But for the purpose of this book focused on how individuals apply symbolic constructions, these categories lack explanatory power. In the unique case of humanitarian interventions in the developing world, the most well-­ founded explanation of why people approach a disaster site is unfortunately not that simple. In the collective imagery of traditional humanitarians, their interventions are exclusively informed by the “needs” of the local population they strive to help (Magone et al. 2012, p. 251). “Need” has become the leading notion in the sector and complements the humanitarian imperative. In their minds, the hypothesis that “those that have been impacted by a disaster” do not have all that it takes to recover expeditiously and live a comfortable life translates into an overwhelming sentiment that lack of action by the international community is inappropriate and unacceptable. What vindicates this attitude is their eagerness to help them “re-­establishing normalcy and order” (Peek and Sutton 2003, p. 327).

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Of all the different ways scholars and practitioners have defined it, this is the only one that captures the true essence and reason for the existence of humanitarian action. But the reality is that most humanitarian actors do not really pay attention to the mission. And honestly, I don’t even think there is agreement on what the mission should be. Sometimes it feels like they just ignore more abstract and philosophical questions. They pay more attention to immediate, much-needed tasks and goals, such as providing medical assistance or re-establishing food security. Being driven by tasks and goals has enormous implications for humanitarian action, but most importantly, for the local communities. If, for instance, the objective is to provide medical assistance, a humanitarian organization might send doctors, while another might choose to send kits and medicines to be delivered by local actors. At first glance, both approaches appear to be correct and complementary. Without appropriate planning, the response offered by multiple organizations and individuals becomes competitors instead of complementary and creates tension and discomfort. I would like the reader to consider that the deployment of humanitarian missions is nothing but the operational outcome of a decision informed by the narrow and often individualistic view of humanitarian officials charged with accomplishing an organizational objective. Under this alternative line of reasoning, the response is determined by their own beliefs about what needs to be done. Just to be clear, even if they believe that they act according to the needs of the locals, they are not. In symbolic terms, the decisions they make that determine deployments and the convergence they produce are exclusively driven by their own interpretations of the local needs, which are entirely influenced by the belief system of the northern humanitarian space. If you throw into the equation “unorganized convergence” discussed in the previous section, understanding the motives of those that “converge” in a post-disaster context gets muddier. The reason is relatively simple and related to the way the communities of our world relate to one another. If you think about it, not so long ago, the world “was” bigger. The distances between countries or even towns or communities were enormous. If you wanted to visit a friend or a family member, you could not escape the penuries and discomfort of long and tiring journeys. The same thing happened with communications. It was not until 1876 that Graham Bell invented the phone and gave humans the extraordinary ability to connect with others worldwide. Before that, the only way to communicate was through someone carrying a letter and waiting days, sometimes even months, for a response. This reality was very well portrayed in a movie that reached the market only recently, in 2020, which I highly recommend. The film is called “News of the World” and features Tom Hanks in the nineteenth century (1870, to be more precise). In this very well-accomplished film, he is some sort of storyteller. He traveled the U.S. territory carrying with him the latest printed journals, and he made a living by convening the citizens of each town into a gathering where he would stand and read the content of the articles. At this time, only a hundred and fifty years ago, this was the only way that you could even get to know what was happening across the country, including cities and towns that were only a few hundred miles away.

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Besides isolated accounts of travelers passing through the town, the text in those journals contained the only information people could access. I imagine those journals would include information about politics, the economy, and other important events for the local folks. They would also most certainly include information about gunfights, accidents in the mines or the railroad, out-of-the-ordinary weather events that had ruined the harvests, and most likely explosions involving poorly stored and managed gunpowder. But despite the potentially catastrophic consequences of these events, they would have never reached neighboring towns on time for friendly and thoughtful individuals to take the initiative to travel those long distances and provide any support that would make a difference to the victims. Back then, disasters and crises were geographically circumscribed to finite space and affected primarily the lives of those living in the proximities of that space. Surrounding communities remained distant. Globalization changed this. To start with, it created higher levels of connectivity. People from surrounding communities not only find themselves informed much more quickly, but they also had new means of transportation to travel and carry with them some assistance. Consequently, disasters are no longer localized incidents with a beginning and an end but circumstances that extend beyond the location and time where the initial disruption manifested (Yang 2008; Dickstein 1974; Wachtendorf 2009). But most importantly, globalization also spread the impact of disasters worldwide. It was increasingly possible that a person living in one place had assets, businesses, and family members elsewhere. And as such, globalization brought with it a motivation to get involved. In a sense, it increased the perception of our global community’s legitimacy to respond to disasters, travel around the world, and “converge” in the place that was affected. Box: Core Ideas – The Work of Fritz and Mathewson (1957) on Motivations Globalization increased the perception of our global community’s legitimacy to respond to disasters, travel around the world, and “converge.” In the minds of humanitarians, the hypothesis that “those that have been impacted by a disaster” do not have all that it takes to recover expeditiously and live a comfortable life translates into a sentiment that the lack of action by the international community is inappropriate and unacceptable. Fritz and Mathewson (1957) were among the first to study people’s motivations to travel toward a disaster. They established five categories: (1) the helpers, (2) the anxious, (3) the returnees, (4) the curious, and (5) the exploiters. Without appropriate planning, the response offered by multiple organizations and individuals, instead of being complementary, becomes competitors and creates tension and discomfort among the local citizens.

2.4  Whatever They Want (What)

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2.4 Whatever They Want (What) So what are humanitarian operations made of? Organizations from around the world focus their attention on different things. Some provide shelter, others food or clothing, and others offer medical care or fix the affected infrastructure. Some focus on children’s education or those that engage in search and rescue operations. Even though their diversity of activities is extraordinary, some sectors receive much more attention than others. According to Coppola (2007), for instance, in the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake, “over 200 organizations addressed the single issue of water quality, while thousands more provided food aid, shelter, medical assistance, and many other victim and rehabilitation needs” (p. 527) Regardless of what they do, there is one thing they all have in common. Most physically deploy teams of people to accomplish their missions, who usually bring large volumes of stuff with them. Regarding people, Fritz and Mathewson called it “personal convergence,” and I have already talked about it throughout the previous sections. They also introduced the idea of “material convergence” to the disaster literature, which “includes the supplies and equipment sent by all entities responding to a disaster” (Holguín-Veras et  al. 2014, p.  2). After the Rio Grande Flood of 1954  in the United States, for instance, a “San Antonio radio station sent 22 truckloads of unrequested goods to the disaster area” (Neal 1994, p. 23). Nearly 60 years later, Holguín-Veras et al. in 2012 found that “delivering and distributing supplies to the two million Port-au-­ Prince residents after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti required 20,000 staff members (comparable in size to a US Army division)” (p. 496). Because of their noble goal (Rességuier 2018), many things sent toward a disaster are adequate relief items of extreme importance to the local communities. They are also presumed to come from good-hearted people interested in the well-being of those in need. This is well known, but it is not always the case. Paul (2019), for instance, found that in the aftermath of the Indian Ocean Tsunami, “Sri Lankan officials seized several containers packed with narcotics, weapons and other illegal goods sent as disaster relief by criminal elements from foreign countries”2 (p. 222). The fact that the general population tends to assume that everything and anything can be of use (Holguín-Veras et al. 2014), combined with reduced shipping costs (Nelan and Wachtendorf 2016), usually creates a massive influx of “unsolicited aid” and “low priority items.” Viagra, Christmas costumes (IFRC and RCS 1994), and unusable footwear for rescue animals (Nelan and Wachtendorf 2016) over which victims have minimal influence (Costa et al. 2012) are some examples. Most of these elements are not eligible to be distributed to the general population. They can create significant problems for humanitarian operations (Neal 1994; Wachtendorf et al. 2013; Destro and Holguín-Veras 2011) to the point that many  In his book Paul 2019 cites the following media article: Sikh Donations Left Rot at Port in Sri Lanka. Aug 4. http://www.sikhsangat.org/publishg/article_237.shtm. Last Accessed 8 Aug 2005. The first of July of 2019 this link was not working. 2

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scholars have used the term a second-tier disaster (France 2002; Islam et al. 20133). Logistics is one such problem, but there are others. The humanitarian literature has extensively described how in complex emergencies, relief items can end up serving one or the other of the parties in conflict (Blouin and Pallage 2008). Disaster scientists have found that the deployment of large volumes of materials can negatively affect the already vulnerable economic system and existing markets (Nelan and Wachtendorf 2016). In addition, material convergence is also directly related to what has been called “response-generated demands,” especially in post-disaster interventions in weak economies. These are the demands of an operation resulting from the massive influx of people and supplies as external aid pours in at a gigantic scale. These include the need for food and accommodation for all the people arriving at the impacted location. The larger the disaster, the larger the response generated demands (Dynes et al. 1972). Information is another “element” that flows around and into the impacted area, and it was named by Fritz and Mathewson as “information convergence.” It is indispensable and employed by all actors, including humanitarian leaders who consume large amounts of it. Ironically, what information and how this information converges and becomes available to humanitarian leaders to make decisions is still unknown as information is the less studied form of convergence (Paul 2019). Two sources of information have received the most attention in the past few years. One is social networks because the general public uses them as a source of information but also as a channel to re-distribute information (Sutton et al. 2008). The media (and modern social media) is the second and deserves special consideration, for it influences the flow of information, affecting the specific points of significance (Holguín-Veras et  al. 2014). The media collects information about the perceived needs, pushing the donations to particular locations within the disaster-­ affected area (Paul 2019). Despite the relatively small amount of research, scholars have documented how informational convergence affects response in various ways (Wachtendorf et  al. 2015; Holguín-Veras et al. 2012; Nelan and Wachtendorf 2016), including its influence over material and people (Holguín-Veras et al. 2014). In the aftermath of the 2010 Haiti Earthquake, for instance, the monumental amount of information provided by the billions of cellular phones allowed organizations to track the movement of people (Benglsson et  al. 2011). Similar use was given in Bangladesh (Lu et al. 2016). Following Fritz and Mathewson’s reasoning, international humanitarian deployments are made of people, things, and information. When you consider them jointly, “total convergence” can be so extraordinarily massive to that point that it can inconspicuously affect the format, objectives, and even the essence of any humanitarian intervention. Under the traditional lens of humanitarian action, despite some of its

  See Holguín-Veras et  al. (2014) for a discussion about the complications of material convergence. 3

2.4  Whatever They Want (What)

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negative consequences, convergence is presumed to be purely driven by “the needs of the local population.” The things that are deployed, whether it is people, materials, or information, are essential, and their value is taken for granted. Alternatively, things change when you focus on the cognitive connection between disaster survivors and humanitarian actors. Allow me to share an example. During the past years, the many problems with the volume of convergence encouraged the humanitarian architecture to engage in a new conversation about the benefits of monetary donations and using cash as a more efficient alternative. It is not only a more flexible resource (Thomas and Fritz 2006), but it can also positively affect the local economy (Nelan and Wachtendorf 2016), and it “is one of the most well-researched and rigorously-evaluated humanitarian tools of the last decade” (Overseas Development Institute 2015, p. 8) Even though cash transfers seem to be an ideal tool to replace or complement the in-kind delivery of aid, it is still uncertain whether it will succeed. There are two main concerns at this point. The first is a problem of interest and selfishness. It is related to the possibility that this tool remains a small part of the total aid, with “its adoption inhibited by the institutional mandates and interests of humanitarian organizations” (Overseas Development Institute 2015, p. 11). The second one is an issue of generalized distrust from the global humanitarian system in the local populations, who have been portrayed as dishonest and mainly interested in the consumption of alcohol (Evans and Popova 2017). Needless to say, this posture is absolutely ridiculous and fully guided by stereotypes and the absurd and incorrect appreciation that some people from the Global North have of the people of the Global South. But there is another challenging idea that I would like to reflect on. So far, I have argued against humanitarian convergence. I have been claiming that the disconnection between both collectives is so strong that it impedes the proper delivery of aid. But let me continue with the example of replacing material convergence with money to contradict myself on this one. It does seem like a good idea, but it is unclear how this strategy might affect other aspects of humanitarian practice. One of the few benefits of sending tangible items to a disaster area is the human connection it creates. By removing this component, you also remove the human element. At first glance, it appears that the humanitarian machinery finds it attractive to adopt more efficient mechanisms. But it is unclear to me if these benefits would outweigh the harms generated by the impersonal delivery of money. Box: Core Ideas – Convergence Under Different Lenses The “total convergence” can be so extraordinarily massive to that point that it can inconspicuously affect the format, objectives, and even the essence of any humanitarian intervention. The “things” that are deployed and converge would change depending on the lens you use. Under a traditional lens, humanitarian convergence is driven by “the needs of the local population.” Alternatively, under a symbolic lens, it is driven by the connection between disaster survivors and humanitarian actors.

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2.5 Here, There, and Beyond (Where) And where do those that travel converge? In the minds of many, a humanitarian intervention means thousands of people from all over the world crossing borders and traveling the skies toward a place where relief is needed. This image is proper because it represents the essence of humanitarian work but lacks depth. In reality, the movement of people associated with a disaster or a humanitarian crisis is much more chaotic. This somewhat linear representation of post-disaster convergence does exist, but it is only one aspect of the vast array of post-disaster human movement. Even though things have changed a lot in the past fifty years, to understand the dynamics of disaster response, the simplicity of the work of Fritz and Mathewson (1957) becomes handy again. In a very original way for that time, they offered a first characterization of the spaces that seemed to be the destination of those who chose to “show up.” This model applies both to isolated individuals and to a more institutionalized response. They interpreted the space around the area that had been impacted as a series of “superimposed circles of ever-widening diameters” (p. 5). The inner circle represented the impact location, and the progressive, more distant regions only suffered at a decreasing rate. Other scholars added to that first model. Osborne and Scanlon (1992) identified that the movement of people was not always toward the disaster’s epicenter, but instead that they tended to move toward other locations as well. Similarly, after studying the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on US soil, Kendra and Wachtendorf (2003) realized that people also met with others and proposed that convergence occurred at a “point of significance.” They defined the disaster milieu as “the complex of people and places involved in the response, a multilocational field of social activity” (p. 102). Bevc et al. (2009) addressed the idea of convergence space. They focused their attention on social movements and different social formations. For them, the emphasis should be on the space (both virtual and material) where “interests, goals, tactics, and strategies converge” (p. 4). So, following this interpretation, they studied the 9/11 terrorist attacks while considering this newly defined space as a facilitator for interaction among responding organizations. In Fritz and Matthewson’s model, where most of the convergence will happen is where the disaster hits. In more complex scenarios, however, especially where the consequences of the event cross geographic and political borders, this is not necessarily the case. In nuclear explosions, for instance, an essential part of the impact usually happens thousands of miles away from the epicenter (Paine 1992). In the case of epidemic outbreaks where there is no infrastructure destruction, there are many points of convergence. They can be dispersed along broadly geographic areas (Penta 2017), or the mitigation measures could prevent the displacement of people, such as COVID-19, where the large majority of countries imposed compulsory confinements.

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Understanding the places where people and organizations converge is a critical and under-covered issue. Convergence occurs because individuals and organizations choose to travel to the same area. New research and new information have increasingly shown that the response to a disaster does not necessarily require that convergence takes place where the tragedy happened. The post-disaster reality, including the definition of what have been the affected areas, is more complicated than finding the exact location where a disaster originated, as was discussed previously. The provision of relief, for instance, sometimes requires setting up logistical centers far from the point of impact. Similarly, the overall response to a significant catastrophe requires gathering politicians and policymakers in multiple places around the globe, such as the UN headquarters. In summary, post-disaster convergence is not linear; it doesn’t occur in one location or a site directly associated with the disaster event. There are many venues where convergence occurs, especially if you consider the self-deployed, unorganized, self-regulated, uninformed, and ill-motivated individuals. They also apply symbolic constructions to process information and make decisions, but their lack of affiliation to larger structures makes their movement much more atomized and challenging to document. Convergence, as a theoretical construct, has been used primarily to study the final or the most important destination of the people who moved. Still, it fails to account for other aspects of the phenomenon. At this point, there are three new types of convergence that I would like to add to the conversation. First, there is the case of those that converge in the exact location multiple times, a phenomenon that I call re-convergence. If you only consider the final destination and do not take into account the many times that people go to the exact same location, you underestimate the impact of convergence. You might think this is a small portion of the total convergence, but it is not. Even though I haven’t been able to find any academic research on this, I would dare to say that it is more prevalent than we might expect. Most humanitarian workers are deployed for long periods of time, and, commonly, they are given the freedom to travel back to neighboring countries to recharge their energies or back to their home towns to visit their families. Some other members of the humanitarian space, such as top leaders and strategists, tend to travel to the same location for only a few days at a time over long periods of time. They regularly go immediately after the disaster happened, and they continue going afterward to maintain meetings with their staff and local decision-makers. There is also the case of those whose travel takes them to various locations, a phenomenon I call forward-convergence. In this case, the traveling parties do not stay in a single place, but their responsibilities make them move from one location to another. They might stay a couple of days in each area at a time, or they can stay longer. Regional Directors at large organizations generally oversee many countries. To be more efficient and spend fewer resources, they might travel for a few months and visit multiple places in the same trip instead of going back and forth to each of them. The last of the three new proposed types of convergence is called multi-­ convergence, essentially a combination of the previous two. This type of convergence happens with those who travel extensively to multiple locations. It is probably

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the rarest as it is exceptionally demanding. When interviewed about the Ebola outbreak in 2014–2016, a humanitarian leader explained to me the following: I had to travel a lot. I don’t remember exactly, but I only see my family a couple of times during a very long period. I had meetings with funders, other colleagues, the media, and many meetings with politicians. And that is just in Europe. I also had to travel to Africa a lot. I think I got like half a million miles. I went to Guinea, Liberia, and a few other countries, and when I was there, I had to travel by car to different towns. I was really tired and exhausted. I don’t remember exactly when, but I even remember that one day I came back from West Africa, and the following week I had to travel to a few places because the WHO detected some Zika cases. And in response to your questions, sometimes it is my boss who tells me where to go, and some other times I have to make the call myself. My boss is not always informed about everything. He oversees multiple regions, but when it comes to my own region, it is me who makes the decisions. Sometimes I feel that the trip was a waste of time, but it is hard to have the perfect team and the certainty that things on the ground are happening the way you want. Those guys are great, but they don’t know the politics behind what we do, and they don’t need to know either. That is above their pay grade, which is why sometimes I must take care of things myself.

I find that the cascading reach and ramifications of how humanitarians move around the world must be a source of superior headaches to the affected community. I don’t know if you noticed, but the information I included in this section points out that convergence has, and still is, considered from the point of view of those that converge, and not necessarily from the point of view of the locals. This is important because the impact of the movement of those that converge is assessed in terms of program efficiency and not what it means to the local people. Box: Core Ideas – Multiple Destinations of Convergence The somewhat linear representation of post-disaster convergence is only one aspect of the vast array of post-disaster human movement. Post-disaster convergence is not really linear. Convergence occurs in many venues, especially if you consider the self-deployed individuals and groups. Convergence has been used primarily to study the final or the most important destination. I propose three new types of convergence. (1) “re-­ convergence” refers to the convergence to the same location through long periods, (2) “forward convergence” refers to the convergence in consecutive destinations, and (3) “multi-convergence” is essentially a combination of the previous two.

2.6 Working Together (How) At the beginning of humanitarian action, things were simpler. A group of people needed life-saving assistance, and there was another group of people who were willing to provide it. The main goal was to save lives, alleviate suffering, reduce physical, social, and economic vulnerability, and protect and maintain human dignity

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(Rességuier 2018; McEntire 1997; Tierney et al. 2001) with the provision of short-­ term emergency assistance (Tierney et al. 2001) such as food, blankets, and medical care. This group was generally tiny. In our modern times, things are pretty different. Multiple mechanisms are activated in the face of a crisis or an emergency. Many people (Holguín-Veras et al. 2012) from all over the world, and a vast mix of hundreds of thousands of tangled organizations, mobilize with unbelievable expediency and rush to be among the first to be at the disaster site (Kendra and Wachtendorf 2003; Otegui 2021). If you look at the phenomenon from a global perspective, you will realize that it has become a popular, highly visible, and even expected collective reaction; a responsibility and an obligation for the international community. It tells us that all lives matter and guides the action of a massive force to alleviate human suffering and guarantee that marginal and unattended communities and all the persons in need have access to the essential services to maintain life. On the opposite side of the willingness and the commendable commitment of so many people worldwide, one apparent repercussion has caught the attention of humanitarian scholars. Interestingly, despite its heterogeneity and diversity, contemporary humanitarian action has developed a logic of its own that sometimes feels disconnected from the pain it tries to mitigate and the local contexts it serves. Many scholars have pointed out that these individuals and organizations differ in many ways. They vary in size, the resources they possess, their nationality, and their internal policies, they adhere to different management practices, and different motivations and interests even drive them. But scientists, academics, and practitioners alike have failed to point out that these many actors are also driven by different philosophical schools of thoughts, beliefs, and mental frameworks. These significant cognitive differences make them assign meaning to disasters in sometimes irreconcilable ways. Still, if they find it appropriate, they travel around the world to provide whatever assistance they see fit. This new phenomenon helped us realize that they must be organized (Holguín-­Veras et al. 2014, p. 496). It also incentivized scholars and practitioners to engage in a heated discussion about the importance of coordination and the best strategies to achieve it (Buck et al. 2006; Eikenberry et al. 2007; Harrald 2006; Macrae 2008; McEntire 1997). Consequently, the United Nations (UN) resolution 46/182 of 1991 was the ground on which the Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC) was created. Acting as a forum that unites the representatives of most of the UN agencies, the Committee is considered the primary mechanism for coordinating humanitarian assistance. The push for coordination was twofold. On the one hand, considering the growth in the volume of work, there was a desire to increase the likelihood that the new and emergent humanitarian organizations could easily plugin into an existing system and help them integrate into the response operations (Apte 2010; Van Wassenhove 2006). Secondly, organizations were encouraged to develop mechanisms to guarantee accountability to the growing number of donors and funders that appeared when humanitarian assistance became central to foreign policy goals (Barnett 2005). The crisis in Darfour pushed for the first sizeable humanitarian reform in 2005 to ensure an adequate response. The implementation of the “cluster approach” was

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among the things that were agreed upon. The system is based on a group of agencies working together toward a common goal and sharing information (Altay and Labonte 2014) to enable prompt humanitarian response. Later on, in 2012, after the earthquakes in Haiti and Pakistan that “exposed a number of weaknesses and efficiencies in the international humanitarian response,”4 the IASC pursued the transformative agenda to achieve “more effective coordination.” Interestingly, there isn’t a universally accepted definition of disaster coordination yet (Groenendaal et al. 2013). Still, in one of its simplest versions, the objective of coordination is to provide others with information about what we are doing (McEntire 1997). Unlike what one might expect, the apparently simple concept of coordinating agencies and organizations presumed to be driven by the “one and only” humanitarian imperative doesn’t come free of challenge. As a matter of fact, it has given the international community many headaches and has been the source of heated tensions. Incompatibility of agendas (Buck et al. 2006), inabilities of international experts to relate to the local population (Eikenberry et al. 2007), different perceptions of reality (Macrae 2008), under-resourcing (Portsea 1992), the relationship between funding and security concerns (Vaux 2006), political interests (Otegui 2020), and many more, are all issues that have been identified as affecting international response coordination. Oliver-Smith (2004) correctly points out that the nature of a problem is rooted in societal dimensions. Because of this is not always agreed upon and can easily be understood differently by different actors creating obstacles (Moynihan 2008). The increasing number of actors also adds to the list of challenges. The larger the number and the more diverse the respondents are, the less familiar they will be with one another (Quarantelli 1982), which leads to a smaller level of trust that blocks the ability to reconcile objectives (Nolte and Boenigk 2011). But inter-agency coordination demands certain similarities and compatibility between management practices. This prerequisite led organizations to enhance their management capacities, which in turn was an urge to increase professionalization (Nielsen et al. 2010; Carbonnier 2015) and achieve more standardized, replicable, and prescribed processes and structures (Ramalingam 2013). Organizations started to search with more tenacity for individuals familiar with the existing “ways of being of western humanitarianism” and prioritize hiring personnel with unique technical and managerial skills. The new batch of more professional humanitarian workers helped expand this vision of a more standardized approach. The sector eventually evolved to embrace professional standards and even a code of conduct (Older 2019), a phenomenon that was referred to as “proceduralization” (Anderson et al. 2012, p. 65) and “mechanization of humanitarianism” (Brauman 2004, p. 415). Most ironically, the benefits of this new vision were offset to a large extent by reducing humanitarian action to a “box ticking” activity (Rességuier 2018) or a mechanical checklist that leads to even worse outcomes (Anderson et  al. 2012,

 Extracted from IASC website on 07/14/2014: https://interagencystandingcommittee.org/system/ files/iasc_2-pager_v2015-06-18.pdf 4

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p. 67). It also worked to the detriment of the necessary cultural sensitivity (McEntire 1997) and familiarity with the local contexts (Tierney 2012; McEntire 1997) so much needed in the humanitarian sector. It even increased the risk of harming humanitarian values (Walker and Russ 2010). Furthermore, as a consequence of this strategy, the humanitarian system has become a massive, rigid, unstoppable, living machine (Otegui and Yoder-Bontrager 2021) that, to survive, imperceptibly embraces and reinforces the value system of the developed western countries. This value system attracts into its vortex organizations capable of evidencing highly organized management approaches and willingness to comply with an ever-growing number of standards, protocols, requirements, and forced accountability structures. This approach was not ideal. Believe me when I say that I fully understand its value. I have lived in the United States for nearly 10 years and now recognize this approach’s incredible benefits. But I also know with absolute certainty that it is categorically and unquestionably incompatible with the “way we do things and the way we are” in the Global South. And why is this important? You may be asking. And the response is straightforward. You cannot have two teams playing the same game if they both abide by different rules of engagement. As I said many times before, the Global North appears (at least superficially) to be honestly interested in improving the way they do things. They seem to understand the value of adapting humanitarian action to support people in a way that is sensitive to their local culture, that doesn’t generate additional pain and discomfort, and that accurately responds and is deeply aligned with “the needs of the locals,” and not the needs as the Global North interprets them. In doing so, they keep making marginal improvements to the existing structure and fail to realize that this just won’t work. The goals that I just mentioned cannot be achieved through management. That approach only works very well as long as you can guarantee a shared understanding at a much more profound level. The incompatibility of the value systems and beliefs of two collectives cannot be resolved with policies and procedures. The case of abortion is a perfect example. It is current, and it is one of the most challenging topics that the people of the United States are currently debating. Unfortunately, I have to oversimplify the discussion to get my point across. On one side of the debate, you have people that believe that women must have the absolute right to decide what to do with their bodies, which includes terminating a pregnancy. On the other side, another group of people believes otherwise. They believe the life of the unborn baby is as (if not more) important as the life of the mother, regardless of the stage of the pregnancy. They believe that a new life exists from the moment of fecundation. In a historic decision, the United States Supreme Court officially declared that the right to abortion no longer exists. Such a decision will have cascading effects, and the people living in the United States will have no choice but to conform to the new rules and regulations that will be put into place. The decision of the Supreme Court and the administrative devices that will come do not automatically translate into mutual understanding, let alone agreement. They merely translate into acceptance and compliance. The same thing happens when the humanitarian system.

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Box: Core Ideas – The Illusion of Coordination The humanitarian system imperceptibly embraces and reinforces the value system of developed western countries. This value system attracts organizations capable of evidencing highly organized management approaches and willingness to comply with an ever-growing number of standards, protocols, requirements, and forced accountability structures. Converging individuals and organizations differ in many ways, such as size, the resources they possess, and nationality. They are also driven by different philosophical schools of thought, beliefs, and mental frameworks. These significant cognitive differences make them assign meaning to disasters in sometimes irreconcilable ways.

References Altay, Nezih, and Melissa Labonte. 2014. Challenges in humanitarian information management and exchange. Evidence from Haiti. Disasters 38 (s1): S50–S72. Anderson, Mary B. 1999. Do no harm. How aid can support peace--Or war. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Anderson, Mary B, Dayna Brown, and Jean Isabella. 2012. Time to Listen : Hearing People on the Receiving End of International Aid. 1st ed. Cambridge, MA: CDA Collaborative Learning Projects. Apte, Aruna. 2010. Humanitarian logistics: A new field of research and action. Hanover: Publishers Inc. Barnett, Michael. 2005. Humanitarianism transformed. Perspectives on Politics 3 (4): 723–740. Barton, A.H. 1962. The emergency social system. In Man and society in disaster, ed. G.W. Baker and D.W. Chapman, 222–267. New York: Basic Books. Benglsson, L., X. Lu, A. Thorson, R. Garfield, and J. von Schreeb. 2011. Improved response to disasters and outbreaks by tracking population movements with mobile phone network data: A post-earthquake geospatial study in Haiti. PLoS Medicine 8 (8): 1–8. Bevc, C.A., A.N. Barlau, and N.A. Passanante. 2009. Mapping convergence points in the initial emergency response to 9/11. Disasters 33 (4): 786–808. Blouin, Max, and Stéphane Pallage. 2008. Humanitarian relief and civil conflict. The Journal of Conflict Resolution 52 (4): 548–565. Brauman, R. 2004. From philanthropy to humanitarianism: Remarks and an interview. The South Atlantic quarterly [Online] 103 (2–3): 397–417. Buck, Dick A., Joseph E. Trainor, and Benigno E. Aguirre. 2006. A critical evaluation of the incident command system and NIMS. Journal of Homeland Security and Emergency Management 3 (3). https://doi.org/10.2202/1547-­7355.1252. Carbonnier, Gilles. 2015. Reason, emotion, compassion: Can altruism survive professionalisation in the humanitarian sector? Disasters 39 (2): 189–207. Center for Human Rights and Global Justice. 2011. Sexual violence in Haiti’s IDP camps. Results of a household survey. Downloaded from: http://chrgj.org/wp-­content/uploads/2012/07/ HaitiSexualViolenceMarch2011.pdf Chia, Eng Seng. 2007. Engineering disaster relief. IEEE Technology and Society Magazine. 26 (3): 24–29. Cone, David C., Scott D. Weir, and Sandy Bogucki. 2003. Convergent volunteerism. Annals of Emergency Medicine 41 (4): 457–462.

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Coppola, Damon P. 2007. Introduction to international disaster management. Amsterdam: Butterworth Heinemann. Core Humanitarian Standard Alliance, Groupe URD, and the Sphere Project. 2014. Core humanitarian standard on quality and accountability. https://corehumanitarianstandard.org/files/files/ Core%20Humanitarian%20Standard%20-­%20English.pdf. Last accessed 20 June 2020. Costa, Sergio Ricardo Argollo da, Vânia Barcellos Gouvêa Campos, and Renata Albergaria de Mello Bandeira. 2012. Supply chains in humanitarian operations: Cases and analysis. Procedia – Social and Behavioral Sciences 54: 598–607. Davey, Eleanor, John Borton, and Matthew Foley. 2013. A history of the humanitarian system: Western origins and foundations. London: Overseas Development Institute Humanitarian Policy Group. http://www.odi.org/sites/odi.org.uk/files/odi-­assets/publications-­opinion-­ files/8439.pdf Destro, L., and J.  Holguín-Veras. 2011. Material convergence and its determinants: Case of Hurricane Katrina. Transportation Research Record. 2234: 14–21. Dickstein, H.L. 1974. National environmental hazards and international law. International and Comparative Law Quarterly. 23 (2): 426–446. Dynes, Russell R., E.L. Quarantelli, and Gary A. Kreps. 1972. A perspective on disaster planning. Columbus: Ohio State University Columbus Disaster Research Center. Eikenberry, Angela M., Verónica Arroyave, and Tracy Cooper. 2007. Administrative failure and the international NGO response to Hurricane Katrina. Public Administration Review. 67 (Supplement): 160–170. Evans, David K., and Anna Popova. 2017. Cash transfers and temptation goods. Economic Development and Cultural Change 65 (2): 189–221. https://doi.org/10.1086/689575. Fernando, U., and D.J.M.  Hilhorst. 2006. Everyday practices of humanitarian aid: Tsunami response in Sri Lanka. Development in Practice 16 (3–4): 292–302. France, D. 2002. $75 million of stuff. Newsweek 139 (7): 62–63. Fritz, Charles E., and J.H.  Mathewson. 1957. Convergence behavior in disaster: A problem in social control. A special report prepared for the Committee on Disaster Studies. Green, P. 2005. Disaster by Design Corruption, Construction and Catastrophe. The British Journal of Criminology 45 (4): 528–546. Groenendaal, Jelle, Ira Helsloot, and Astrid Scholtens. 2013. A critical examination of the assumptions regarding centralized coordination in large-scale emergency situations. Journal of Homeland Security and Emergency Management 10 (1): 113–135. Harrald, John. 2006. Agility and discipline: Critical success factors for disaster response. The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 604 (1): 256–272. Helmer, Elena, and Stuart H.  Deming. 2011. Non-governmental organizations: Anticorruption compliance challenges and risks. International Lawyer 45 (2): 597–624. Hilhorst, Dorothea. 2005. Dead letter or living document? Ten years of the Code of Conduct for disaster relief. Disasters 29 (4): 351–369. Holguín-Veras, José, Noel Pérez, Satish Ukkusuri, Tricia Wachtendorf, and Bethany Brown. 2007. Emergency logistics issues affecting the response to Katrina. A synthesis and preliminary suggestions for improvement. Transportation Research Record: Journal of the Transportation Research Board 2022 (1): 76–82. Holguín-Veras, José, Miguel Jaller, Luk N. Van Wassenhove, Noel Pérez, and Tricia Wachtendorf. 2012. On the unique features of post-disaster humanitarian logistics. Journal of Operations Management 30 (7–8): 494–506. ———. 2014. Material convergence: Important and understudied disaster phenomenon. Natural Hazards Review 15 (1): 1–12. International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, International Committee of the Red Cross. 1994. Code of Conduct for the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement and NGOs in Disaster Relief. Extracted from https://media.ifrc.org/ifrc/who-­we-­ are/the-­movement/code-­of-­conduct/ on the 1st of July 2020.

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Islam, M., K. Dolan, J. Heggestuen, A. Nordenson, and J.V. Vate. 2013, July 29. Who is responsible for the “second disaster”? Stanford Social Innovation Review. Retrieved on July 4, 2017 from: http://ssir.org/articles/entry/who_is_responsible_for_the_second_disaster Kendra, James M., and T. Wachtendorf. 2003. Reconsidering convergence and converger legitimacy in response to the world trade center disaster. Research in Social Problems and Public Policy 11: 97–122. Leeson, Peter T., and Russell S. Sobel. 2008. Weathering corruption. (impact of Federal Emergency Management Agency disaster relief on the development of political corruption in the states receiving relief). Journal of Law and Economics 51 (4): 667–681. Lu, X., D.J. Wrathall, P.R. Sundsey, M. Nadiruzzaman, E. Wetter, A. Iqbal, T. Qureshi, A. Talem, G. Canright, K.E. Monsen, and L. Benglsson. 2016. Unveiling hidden migration and mobility patterns in climate stressed regions: A longitudinal study of six million anonymous mobile phone users in Bangladesh. Global Environmental Change 38: 1–7. Macrae, Joanna. 2002. The new humanitarianisms: A review of trends in global humanitarian action, Humanitarian Policy Group, Report 11. Overseas Development Institute. Macrae, Graeme. 2008. Could the system work better? Scale and local knowledge in humanitarian relief. Development in Practice 18 (2): 190–200. Magone, Claire, M. Neuman, and F. Weissman. 2012. Humanitarian negotiations revealed: The MSF experience. London: Hurst. https://public.ebookcentral.proquest.com/choice/publicfullrecord.aspx?p=1920730. McEntire, David A. 1997. Reflecting on the weaknesses of the international community during the IDNDR: Some implications for research and its application. Disaster Prevention and Management 6: 221. Moynihan, Donald. 2008. Combining structural forms in the search for policy tools: Incident command systems in U.S. crisis management. Governance 21 (2): 205–229. Neal, David M. 1994. The consequences of excessive unrequested donations: The case of Hurricane Andrew. Disaster Management 6: 23–28. Nelan, Mary M., and Tricia Wachtendorf. 2016. The social construction of donations: Agility, adaptability, and alignment as success determinants in relief supply chains. Nielsen, Rich, David Leblang, Sarah Bermeo, Jim Vreeland, Beth Simmons, and Jeff Frieden. 2010. Does aid follow need? Humanitarian motives in aid allocation. Harvard University. Nolte, I.M., and S. Boenigk. 2011. Public-nonprofit partnership performance in a disaster context: The case of Haiti. Public Administration. 89 (4): 1385–1402. Older, Malka. 2019. Disaster response as secondary hazard. In Disaster research and the second environmental crisis: Assessing the challenges ahead, ed. James Kendra, Scott Gabriel Knowles, and Tricia Wachtendorf. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-­3-­030-­04691-­0. Oliver-Smith, Anthony. 2004. Theorizing vulnerability in a globalized world. A political ecological perspective. In Mapping vulnerability: Disasters, development, and people, ed. Greg Bankoff, Georg Frerks, and Thea Hilhorst. London: Earthscan Publications. Osborne, Gillian, and T. Joseph Scanlon. 1992. The man who helped Sammy Prince write: Dwight Johnstone and the Halifax explosion. International Journal of Mass Emergencies and Disasters 10: 189–206. Otegui, Diego. 2019, March. Can gangs play a role in providing relief? Humanitarian Alternatives, n°10: 100–109. http://alternatives-­humanitaires.org/en/2019/03/25/ can-­gangs-­play-­role-­providing-­relief/ ———. 2020. The concealed weaknesses of strong early warning systems. The case of Mexico. Scientific Papers of the Main School of Fire Service. Issue 74: 93–111. https://zeszytynaukowe-­ sgsp.pl/resources/html/article/details?id=206334 ———. 2021. Understanding the cognitive gap between humanitarians and survivors during humanitarian operations. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 63. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2021.102427.

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Chapter 3

Relational Humanitarianism

3.1 The Reaction of the Value System Someone could argue that societies differ from one another because of the weird caprice of destiny, far from it. Societies result from the interactions and exchange among the members of the eco-social systems across time. The collective conscience that springs from these interactions determine available disaster response coping strategies. The values that inform that collective conscience remains fairly unaltered when you find yourself surrounded by your community members, people you love, and others you know well. When you have in your proximity, instead, tons of people that are unfamiliar to you and whose intentions and reasons for being there are unknown, the value system changes. This is what happens amid a post-disaster context filled with external convergers. This means that societal coping strategies are only appropriate and efficient as long as the value system remains impervious to unwanted foreign elements. Disasters generate awful new sensations such as pain, grief, anger, and remorse that inescapably affect and even transform how people perceive reality. But so do the arrival of external “convergers” because the association with them fosters a new way of perceiving things and re-evaluating what is considered necessary. Social disruptions followed by a foreign intervention provide the ground for the mind to start a process of cognitive adaptation that might even be contradictory to previous mental constructions that the community had developed to maintain social order. In Mumford’s words, when a foreign element finds its way through, mind mechanisms open up, and a “new constellation of ideas, a new world picture, a new vision of human possibilities, will take possession of a whole culture…” (Mumford, p. 428). Formal and well-structured organizations have an installed ability to synchronize their work and act as a cohesive mechanism. But when you consider that whole © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1_3

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international humanitarian convergence, the image changes. From the point of view of relief recipients, it actually looks and behaves like an unorganized amorphous living organism that gobbles the little cognitive freedom that disaster survivors have left. Let me reinforce these ideas with two cases. Box: Disaster Event – Rwanda In 100 days, between April 07th and July 15th, 1994, an estimated 500,000 to 1.1 million men, women, and children were killed in fighting between two ethnic groups, Hutu and Tutsi. The tension between the two groups started over a century earlier under German colonial occupation. Germans viewed the Tutsi, a minority group, as superior and gave them preferential positions in government. In 1919, following WWI, Belgium took control of Rwanda. Disparate ethnic treatment continued, and Hutu dissatisfaction grew. In 1959, a Hutu revolution caused over 300,000 Tutsis to flee. The DRC gained independence in 1962, but violence between the two groups continued. After 30 years, in 1990, the Tutsi refugees returned as the Rwandese Patriotic Front (RPF). On June 6th, 1994, President Habyarimana’s plane was shot down, an event that sparked the genocide against the Tutsi. A coalition government was formed on July 4th, 1994, bringing together Hutu President Pasteur Bizimungu and Tutsi Vice President Paul Kagame and an end to the genocide. Resources: History.com. (April 19th, 2022). Rwandan Genocide. https://www.history. com/topics/africa/rwandan-­genocide Whistler, S. (November 25th, 2021). The Rwandan Genocide. Into The Shadows. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VccTvkAiksg In Rwanda, after the 1994 genocide, parallel to the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and the formal Rwandan court system, 12,000 “Gacaca” tribal courts were established around the country. The local people selected the judges of these local courts according to their interpretation of their good morals and behavior. Finding and imprisoning the perpetrators of such a horrific ethnic cleansing can be difficult, but it is doable. However, repairing the social fabric and securing a harmonious future between sectors in conflict is only possible if the people are willing to adapt intangible norms. These norms are inexplicable to the foreign eye. Foreign organizations parachuting themselves into unknown territory will always be outsiders, and, in a way, they force the local community to be surrounded by thousands of strange people. They might honestly think that they understand what the locals want and collaborate with them in harmony and brotherhood, but the heartbreaking reality is that they don’t.

3.1 The Reaction of the Value System

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Fig. 3.1  Diego in NGO fenced compound

While collecting data in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Irma and Maria, I landed in a small community in the south. An American organization had worked there for several months and kindly allowed me to stay with them for a while. The fence on my back in Fig. 3.1 surrounded the entire facility where dozens of volunteers were stationed. This was the only fenced facility, and it was located in the middle of the town. The facility, I was told, used to be a community center. Right in its front yard is a big flag waving the organization’s colors, and in the back, there is a baseball field that they used to host friendly games between the volunteers and a local team. From the point of view of the organization, the facility provided all that was needed. A secure place to keep their belongings, easy to access to the program’s beneficiaries, a tall mast to put their flag for marketing purposes, and a terrific baseball field to play with the locals. From the outside, however, the symbolic meaning was entirely different. You had a group of mostly white Americans, unaware of the local culture. They were based in the middle of the city, in a secured facility entirely fenced that used to be a central place of community life, and hence, of incredible ideological value. Furthermore, it had a waving flag and a team of uniformed invaders (oops, I meant humanitarians) confronting (oops, I meant playing) the local survivors. Whenever someone from the local community wanted assistance, they had to cross the fence where they were interviewed by someone posted at the door. They had to stand in line to complete a form if given permission. This scenario is far more common than expected because the convergence associated with humanitarian response is only a tiny portion of the global convergence. It is probably the portion that captures the media’s attention and the one that the general public knows more about. But the contemporary post-disaster response has

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become a legitimate and even expected international reaction plagued by an increasing number of more diverse actors, including “well-wishers.” These are more petite humanitarian actors that self-deploy and converge in the impacted location “without appropriate experience in working in disaster situations” (U.N. 2005, p. 3). Some scholars have even characterized them as incompetent (Vaux 2006), and some others have called them “expatriate-expert telling the stupid peasant what to do” syndrome (Allen 1990) due to their cultural insensitivity towards the local population. Of these many actors, those with a more extended and stable history within the sector understand the benefits that working together brings to the people they try to aid and have long tried to enhance their coordination abilities. Fortunately, they have been quite successful about it and developed intricate mechanisms such as the Cluster System. Smaller and more immature organizations tend to have little knowledge about how these more prominent mechanisms work. Their difficulties in plugging into formal and structured responses have been one of the main concerns within the humanitarian architecture, and there has been extensive pushback to limit their participation. But that doesn’t mean that they do not have anything to offer. As a matter of fact, due to their very nature, they can bring benefits in the form of resources and flexibility (Wachtendorf and Kendra 2004) that allows for the provision of disaster services more expeditiously. The pros and cons of this enlarged and more diverse post-disaster space have been highly debated in the last few decades and have led to an enlightening idea. To eliminate the noxious effects of foreign entities pouring into unknown contexts, the humanitarian system has to abandon its pursuit of domination. Suppose it is true that post-disaster convergence will continue to grow in size and diversity. In that case, it is naïve to think that its adverse effects can be eliminated through improving coordination, at least coordination understood as a mechanism designed to enhance the delivery of assistance by foreign forces. The global (northern?) humanitarian architecture has to mature and become more sensitive to the fact that disaster victims are not what they think they are. They are indeed extremely wise, strong, and resilient. They just see things differently. To some extent, humanitarian decision-makers from the global north are already going through some sort of enlightening period. They acknowledge that existing response mechanisms are indeed informed by colonial constructs and contradict the essence of the principles governing the humanitarian enterprise. Even though they cannot grasp the magnitude of its consequences, they know that the value system that dominates western humanitarian action impedes the delivery of assistance in a way that is culturally appropriate and sensitive to the way of life of “their clients.” The provision of international assistance must be redesigned around what I consider a new demand. This new demand is intrinsic to the value system of the aid recipients, and it comes from the world of symbols. It requires that foreign and local actors understand how each other experiences post-disaster reality. This is essentially a transition with the individual at the center, but that must use “the collectivity as a point of reference” (Hughes 1936, p. 180). The following sections display the discrepancies between what members of both collectives say and do and the deepest concealed meaning they assign to one another and to the disaster event itself.

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Box: Core Ideas – Paying Attention to the Value System The collective conscience that springs from social interactions determine available disaster response coping strategies. These strategies are only appropriate and efficient as long as the value system remains impervious to unwanted foreign elements. Humanitarian decision-makers from the global north acknowledge that existing response mechanisms are informed by colonial constructs and contradict the essence of the principles governing the humanitarian enterprise. The provision of international assistance must be redesigned around what I consider a new demand. This new demand is intrinsic to the value system of the aid recipients, and it comes from the world of symbols.

3.2 A Matter of Perspective 3.2.1 Framing the Disaster Despite their shared humanity, humanitarian actors and the populations of the global south are not the same. Both collectives are diametrically different. But even more so after a disaster. They are fundamentally different in ways beyond income level, skin color, and religious beliefs. The unalterable fact is that one group comes from the world’s wealthiest and most stable regions, while the other lives under structural poverty, corruption, and diseases. Both collectives belong to vastly different systems, and because of this, they rely on different ideas, principles, values, and general ways of life (Burnes and Jackson 2011). Contrary to what you may think, for the developing world, many events generally considered disasters are nothing but just other events. Some of them, of course, do pose intense stress and generate enormous negative consequences. This is the case of catastrophes, large earthquakes, and tsunamis that destroy infrastructure and kill thousands of people. But beyond this, the impact of most disaster events, relative to their effect on wealthy nations, is only marginal. Most countries of the global south suffer from a permanent pre-existing flimsy way of life, from structural weaknesses that are rarely seen in countries of the north. Government structures are inefficient and overly bureaucratic, security forces and law enforcement agencies are under-resourced, ill-prepared, and many times feared by the people, and large portions of the society live under alarming levels of poverty and marginality. Livelihoods are generally on the brink of collapsing, markets exist in complete informality, and services like running water and electricity work sporadically. Allow me to use the following analogy to explain the central point of this section. As someone born and raised in the developing south, I believe it would be fair to say that some events are to developing countries what a punch in the shoulder is to a boxer that has received a thousand punches by another boxer for fifty consecutive

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rounds. Let us assume for a minute that the fighter covered in blood is from the developing world, while the other is from the global north. If you suddenly entered the arena in the middle of the fight and saw a fighter from the developing world covered in blood, you would be shocked and concerned. You would probably feel like running toward the ring, desperately attempting to stop the fight while asking others to call 911. Alternatively, if you had the opportunity to witness the battle from the beginning, things might be different. You could have time to analyze where the blood comes from and even if there is a thoughtful strategy being executed by the fighters. But even in the worst-case scenario that the boxer covered in blood has indeed taken a beating and is losing the battle, what would you think an additional punch in the shoulder would do to him? I am using this analogy just to point out that one of the problems with international humanitarian action is one of perspective. Continuing with the analogy, the issue is not that the developed world doesn’t see the entire fight. The developed world is usually attending a different event altogether. Now and then, however, it shows up and sticks its head into the arena. It sees blood, and it reacts. In the minds of those who live a life of privilege, an individual already in a vulnerable condition is prone to suffer more than someone who is not. In their imagery, a context of vulnerability equates to reduced resiliency and the inability to confront a shock. This has been the argument that supports that poor people suffer relatively more from disasters. But although there is some truth to this, this way of thinking is somewhat inaccurate. This is so because the developed world is not a fighter and does not know nor understand pain. Boxers are trained to be fighters. And after a lifetime of receiving punches, they are used to it. Allow me to share another analogy. Academics and humanitarians refer to the state of vulnerability or resilience in terms of the likelihood of collapse of the support system. The pre-disaster support system can be represented as a thick, very comfortable mattress for someone wealthy and a rope hanging between the top of two tall buildings for someone that is not. Both individuals can be standing well balanced in their respective places. The wealthy guy stands on the mattress while the poor person is on the rope. For the sake of the example, we can also imagine that they are both in a comfortable position, each used to their circumstances, without much reason to believe that they could fall. But let us assume for a second that a strong wind is approaching. This event would impact the poor person more than someone from the global north. But this interpretation is fed by two erroneous assumptions. The first one is that the not-­ wealthy person standing in the rope will indeed fall, and the second is that the hit will be tremendous once they do. The issue with this way of thinking is that our brain is used to assessing circumstances according to what it knows. The wealthy spectator can relate to the feeling of standing on a mattress but cannot necessarily relate to the extreme situation of standing in equilibrium on a rope. For this person, a thin rope hanging from two tall buildings seems like a riskier business than a thick mattress on the floor. But to a large extent, this is only an illusion, and it only works if the spectator considers that both individuals are essentially similar. In the world we live in, this is not the case.

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The reality is that the guy standing on the rope is not really likely to fall. It is even possible that the wealthy person falls first. The primary reason is that the cord is much stronger than it seems and that he is super good at maintaining the equilibrium. Let us not forget that he has acquired a wealth of experience living in a context of insecurity and vulnerability. This experience has taught him and forced him to spend vast amounts of energy on improving how he builds the rope (his support network) and learning how to maintain the equilibrium. That doesn’t mean that he will not fall. There is a high probability that he will, but in the case that he does, he will be able to fall in a way that s/he can absorb the impact and not get hurt (at least to the extent that the wealthy spectator thinks). This is to say that he is not only outstanding at not falling, but also that when he does fall, he lands on his feet, similar to a cat, we could say. Ironically, the big problem when a hazardous event hits is not when the person standing in the rope impacts the ground. The fundamental predicament appears when the wealthy guy standing on his mattress precautionarily jumps out of his comfort zone and starts giving CPR. In real life, if you see someone falling, you will only have a few seconds to decide what kind of assistance you can provide. This is how it goes in situations of life and death. And even in this case, you have thousands of years of medical research that has developed precise and efficient protocols. In all other circumstances, where there is not a medical condition that needs to be addressed, it is inherently wrong that the one assisting is the one that decides the type of assistance that will be provided. The help required must be defined by the one in need of assistance. When this is not the case, the negative impact of assisting is more significant than its benefit. Let me ask you a question to reinforce my point. Let us assume that you see a hungry mother. Would you offer to help her daughter with her education? Probably not. Would you offer her money or even food? Probably yes. The question I have for you is, can you really know what she prefers if you don’t ask? Let us assume that you ask her: Can I give you some food? She will likely respond yes. My question still stands. Can you really know that this is what she wanted or needed? Allow me to push the argument further. What would happen if you changed your question to: What can I do for you? Well, even in these circumstances, you couldn’t really tell. If you show up dressed like a corporate leader with a bag full of money, she will probably respond, “money.” If you are dressed like a school teacher, she will probably respond, “education for my daughter.” Do you get my point? It is all a matter of perspective. These two contrasting images help us analyze international humanitarian action from a different viewpoint. There are quite a few striking conclusions that we can extract. First, the entire humanitarian enterprise is exclusively based on the point of view of wealthier nations. Second, their point of view is not entirely correct. Third, and most importantly, I would say, it doesn’t provide the developing nations with a space to share their perceptions. Interestingly, they tend to believe that they do. For many years the humanitarian sector consistently designed strategies to facilitate a more inclusive and equitable interaction. Most of those strategies have not succeeded. The reasons are two-fold. On the one hand, they were designed by the

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same actors who lead the humanitarian machine, so they are biased. On the other, they do not address the underlying symbolic differences between the two. If you think about it, when two “equal” peers exchange ideas, they do it in a way in which they both guarantee a certain level of mindfulness. They care about the words they use, the tone of their voice, and the amount of time each one speaks, and they approach the conversation with a genuine interest in understanding the meaning behind what is said. In the world of humanitarian politics, this is not the case. It is never just two buddies talking. One part of the world is powerful and wealthy that speaks through a giant megaphone, while the other part of the world listens passively. In this dysfunctional, unequal world, the second person has no voice. The last challenge of this interaction is that not only do both parties frame the impact of disasters differently, but they also frame each other in a way that is unknown to one another. For many decades, there has been an overwhelming global push to consider all humans equal. And in some respects, we are. We share our humanity, but this doesn’t mean we are the same. The way that others see us is different from how we see ourselves. This has tremendous implications for humanitarian action, but it is one of the aspects of the craft that has received less attention. I present qualitative data from my doctoral dissertation in the following sections. During my research, I studied the symbolic constructions that humanitarians and disaster victims from the global south use to make sense and assign meaning to one another. Allow me to share a powerful story before jumping into the data. During my doctoral research, I had the chance to interview nearly fifty top executives in various large humanitarian organizations. I also discussed more informally with probably another fifty. Very early into the process, probably when I was transcribing the recordings of the first or second interview, a beautiful theme showed up. One of my interviewees was a pastor and a leader in a renowned Christian humanitarian organization. No more than a few minutes into our conversation, he shared some anecdotes about when he had to self-deploy to a country in Southeast Asia. It caught my attention when he said someone from the tribe picked him up at the airport. I didn’t pay much attention to that comment and let him continue his story. A couple of minutes later, he was explaining how the community greeted him after his arrival and paused to reflect on the actions of what he called the “tribal leader.” Understanding the context was very important for my research, so I interrupted him for additional information. He explained that he was not using the word Tribe in the strict sense of the word. The community where he stayed was physically located in one of the capital city’s nicest neighborhoods, and the community members had no affiliation to any tribe. He continued to explain why he used that term; it was related to a moment in the past when one of his friends in that community and himself started making jokes about their ancestral origins. My interviewee was then stereotyped as a white Anglo-Saxon, and his friend was stereotyped as an Indian from a local tribe. I do not find anything wrong or disrespectful about two friends teasing each other in that manner… or do I? We do the exact same thing in South America. A couple of years ago, a football player from Uruguay called Edinson Cavani, playing in England, responded to a comment posted by a good friend of his on his social media

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account with the phrase “gracias negrito.” The literal translation is “thank you, little black man.” The global football community erupted in anger. A few days later, the media explained to the readers that, differently from what they thought, in that part of the world, the word negrito is considered inoffensive and innocuous and used commonly as a term of endearment and affection. My father was a prestigious neurosurgeon, and every friend or acquaintance I know has called him that same word since he was a little boy. When I read the news, I was shocked about Cavani’s tribulations. But I was doing my research, and I used this anecdote to reflect on the meaning of words. And the truth is that it was only after living in the United States for several years that I understood how important words are. Using them carelessly reinforces stereotypes and perpetuates conflicting feelings about how people relate to one another. Once you use the same term in the same way for a very long time, people get used to it, and even the worst of words (and ideas) can become familiar and widely accepted by society. That doesn’t make them right, though. When I heard my interviewee use the word tribe to refer to his friend’s community, I felt similar to what others felt when Cavani used the word “negrito.” The response to why I felt that way has significant intellectual merit. The answer is driven by the idea that the way a particular collective thinks about another is what determines the relationship between the two. With this idea in mind, I formulated the very first topic of my doctoral dissertation. Simply put, that theme was guided by the following question: “What is it that humanitarians and disaster survivors see when they see each other.”

3.2.2 Framing the Locals One of the most interesting conversations I had during the interviews was with an executive of a sizeable health-related organization. While exchanging ideas about Ebola, we stopped to discuss the possibility of the disease spreading to other parts of the world. The interviewee, at that point, said: I am not medical, but I’ve been working with the medical organization for years, and I’ve watched emergency vaccination since then (1). But then I knew that the Ebola could not spread out in a developed country (4). You put five things that stop the virus, and then it will not spread out (2). It’s not an airborne virus […] I mean, when you know the Ebola is where you realize that the contamination was mostly because the people in Liberia (3) touch each other a lot because there were these graving things where your mother or somebody from your family died. That’s when you’re supposed to kiss the body to touch the body. And this is the highest moment of contamination. That’s why the epidemic exploded (3).

1: Profession (Sources of Legitimacy: Personal Expertise) 2: State (Sources of Authority: Bureaucratic Domination) 3: Humanitarian (Sources of Legitimacy: Knowledge of the Local) 4: State (Formal Control Mechanisms: Enforcement of Legislation)

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In this quotation, the interviewee distinguishes between developed and underdeveloped countries. This distinction is used to construct the main argument that is based on the interpretation that “these types of things” (Ebola) only happen in “those places.” The informant creates a divide between different nations and transitions between logics when thinking about one place or the other. In this person’s mind, there is an automatic and almost natural distinction between developed and underdeveloped nations and appeals to different logics to make sense of each of them. Even though this is probably common for all humans, it is vital to acknowledge it and study its implications. What drives her interpretation of developed nations is a State logic. According to her, the virus can spread to another country through mechanisms that are generally the responsibility of public agencies. Differently, the problem in underdeveloped societies is not related to the state’s capacity but exclusively to the culture of the people. Using an alternative line of thought, for instance, she could have addressed the many constraints of local governments, such as lack of resources, infrastructure, or capacities, and ways in which these same governments could facilitate the practice of these rituals in a way that reduces the contagious nature of the virus. One pastor at a religious charity helped me put the conversation into a different perspective. In a way, she helped me understand better how those from developing countries are perceived by western humanitarians when she said to me: …after seven years in (name of country), I realized even though I can be fluent in Thai and I can read and write, that I will always be a cultural outsider. The color of my skin, the way I dress, the way I walk (NH). I mean, I can imitate them pretty well. But the white skin is pretty hard to change. So, I learned the hard way, painfully, that I’ll never be truly an insider and fully trusted. Even though I am a Christian, and they are my brothers or sisters in Christ (1), I am still not fully a member of the tribe (2). I am a first cousin, but I am not exactly a family member (3) […] So, when I go into disaster relief or development situation, I know […] they are going to do things that I do not fully agree with, but I have to trust them locally. So, I choose to trust. I generally choose not to get too upset about a small use of funds (4). I wish they’d done it this way, but it’s not like they put it in their own pocket. They actually used it. So, they’re going to have other priorities. I’ve just learned to accept that and live with that.

1: Religion (Sources of Identity: Association with Deities) 2: Non-Humanitarian (Basis of Attention: Relationship to Others) 3: Family (Sources of Legitimacy: Unconditional Loyalty) 4: Corporate (Main Motivation: Money)

This quotation was notably enlightening and corroborates that, regardless of how close someone can be to someone else from another part of the world, our cognition automatically establishes a distance. This person had a very close connection with the local population. She was a pastor at the same denomination and had traveled to this location multiple times. She was very well connected and knowledgeable of the

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place; she spoke the language fluently and had many close local friends. Despite this, she acknowledges the existence of a natural distance that made her an outsider. Like the previous quotation, she applies different logics to make sense of her own reality and the locals’ reality. What is different in this case is that she is aware of this distinction. In her mind, money is a critical component of disaster relief. But what seems more important are the policies and processes her organization put in place to determine how this money can be used. In her expression, even though she is aware that the use of funds did not follow such policies, she chooses to accept it. By doing this, her actions corroborate one of the central premises of institutional theory. Each society prioritizes institutional logics differently, and those institutional logics are prioritized differently depending on who is involved in the context. Another salient theme helped me elaborate a more comprehensive explanation of why humanitarians and local stakeholders relate the way they do in a post-disaster context. The central concept of this new theme is that in the eyes of western humanitarians, clients from developing countries are misfortunate. This is intrinsically important because a western human reaction to this feeling of regret and sorrow is accompanied by a certain distance, the perception that “the other” needs space and time to reflect, to put things in order. It occurs to me that, in a way, this perception is somewhat like other feelings someone might have about an individual that has suffered a traumatic shock. One is post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a mental health condition that has received lots of attention in recent years. The following quotation serves well as an example: The basic premise of alleviating human suffering (1) is one that certainly factors into every decision. You know I consistently will ask, like how does this impact clients (2) or communities that we serve (3), so you know that essence in terms of who I am as a person drives a lot of, I think my decisions and how I frame decision making. Yeah, I mean, part of its ­culturally ingrained in the way I was raised with my parents (4), about you know, helping those that are less fortunate in different socioeconomic status (5), and you know, always trying to do the best possible for Humanity (6) which sounds a little bit cheesy, but it guides a lot of you know, my passion for this type of work and my decision making.

1: Humanitarian (Main Motivation: Prevent Suffering) 2: Corporate (Delivery: Products & Services) 3: Humanitarian (Basis of Strategy: Increase Well-Being of the Other) 4: Family (Sources of Identity: Father-Son Relations) 5: State (Basis of Norms: Citizenship in Nation) 6: Humanitarian (Sources of Identity: Commitment to Others)

The reference to economic status to define the locals stands out in this quotation. The expression “less fortunate” does not relate exclusively to a population impacted by a disaster but the combination of the disaster event and the “precarious” condition in which “the client” lives in normalcy. It speaks of how humanitarians grant themselves the prerogative to define how and how much the other is suffering. Also,

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to some extent, they are the ones who know more about what it means to suffer and to be less fortunate. My interviewee also shared the following: it’s pretty fascinating. I was weak on the job. So, there is a newness element to not knowing your new role (1) moving both my partner and I moved from (name of a city) to back to (name of a city). It’s our second time back in (name of country) (2) So, I was literally in (name of transportation) when I saw Hurricane (name of a hurricane) approaching. So, I was making decisions on deployment domestically as well as knowing that I now led a team of (number) people globally that were now involved in the hurricane (name of the hurricane).

1: Professional (Main Motivation: Prevent Suffering) 2: Family (Delivery: Products & Services) 3: Humanitarian (Basis of Strategy: Increase Well-Being of the Other) At this moment, my interviewee was sharing with me her circumstances during the time of the disaster. This quotation complements the previous one and supports what has been said so far. Contrary to the central state logic she used to define the local context, she used family and a professional logic to characterize her life. This might seem unimportant and even evident as the hurricane had impacted somewhere else. However, her previous response could have been very well articulated regarding how disasters affect local survivors’ family life and work conditions. From the perspective of the humanitarians, the “misfortune” of the clients becomes a compelling negative aura that puts a distance between the two collectives. It was told to me: Any earthquake is bad, but to hit a country that is that poor (1) that you know which is not stable (2) and that has a relatively weak national organization, from the point of view of (Name of the Organization) was the challenge (3).

1: Market (Economic System: Market Capitalism) 2: State (Logic of Exchange: Political Power) 3: Humanitarian (Basis of Norms: Help Others) Even though research supports otherwise, most disaster scholars have agreed that disasters’ impact on poor communities generates an additional burden for many years (Rodriguez et al. 2006; Tierney 1999). But there are a few important things to note from this quotation. His expression refers to a humanitarian logic when he uses the term challenge to denote her organization’s interest in going into a difficult place to assist. Interestingly, he does not use the same logic to establish how challenging the context was, but a market and a state logic. He points to the economic situation of the country as well as the political context. Humanitarians relate to locals through the application of humanitarian logic, while they use other instantiations of the same logic to connect to other stakeholders

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(Otegui 2021). This section furthered Otegui’s analysis and used institutional logics to understand how western humanitarians perceive and engage with the local population. In the case of a post-disaster deployment, the humanitarian logic used to make sense of local victims tends to be more extensively used in combination with a religious logic. In contrast, the non-humanitarian logic used to connect with other actors in the humanitarian space seems to be found more regularly in combination with a state, profession, and family logic. Even though it is impossible to establish a causal relationship, it could be that the different prioritization of logics is a byproduct of the agency of the relational logic. This means that the relational logic influences the prioritization of the other logics. This supports the existence of the relational logic and the use of different instantiations for different stakeholders (Otegui 2021) and proves that applying one instantiation or the other is correlated with different logics.

3.2.3 Framing the Humanitarians The vantage point on the side of the local stakeholders is generally different, if not the opposite. For this other group, the intervention itself is important. Once they are hit by an event that disrupts their lives, they seek assistance, a way to return to their everyday lives. In these circumstances, assets, money, food, and shelter are all critical, but so is their desire to see their children at ease, knowing that the following morning they will be able to go next door and play again with their neighbor. And transforming their lives back into what they know requires so much more than the assistance external forces can provide. In a sense, the meaning someone can assign to external assistance might not be proportional to the meaning given to the individuals sent to provide it. During my field to Puerto Rico, a woman who lived near the compound I mentioned before shared her feelings about the presence of many young international volunteers. At some point, I asked her how she felt about having so many humanitarian workers helping, to which she responded: Humanitarians? Who, these guys? These are not humanitarians; they are just kids with good hearts. I am a humanitarian. I have helped my community for over 40 years. I can’t help now because my house is destroyed, but most of us here are more humanitarians than any of them.

I was listening to her attentively when she said this to me. And I will not deny that it took me a few seconds to process what she was trying to convey. I didn’t perceive irony or dislike in the tone of her voice. Her reproach was entirely aimed at me for using a particular term that, in her eyes, should be reserved for a different breed of helpers. Interestingly, she started this quotation by acknowledging that international humanitarians are driven by heart, which is congruent with many of the phrases used in disaster literature. But it was also interesting that she did not care to mention their skills or how rapidly they were on the ground to provide help.

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Singularly, she focused on the many years she had been helping her community. And it was even more singular that she added that many other community members were more humanitarian than the “international humanitarian workers” we were referring to. During the conversation, she explained to me the endless penuries she had confronted in her life. This was easy to see by looking at her house. According to the organization working on the ground, many of her home problems had been caused by the hurricane, but she was very explicit when she said this was not the case. Her house was the house of a very poor person, period. The damages caused by the hurricane could, in fact, hardly be perceived after the first month. And it complemented my understanding when she told me that the simple reason was that some of the young neighbors had rushed to help her fix the windows, which had been damaged more than the concrete structure. She was not trying to convey that she had dedicated her life to humanitarian work but to a whole different idea: that when you live in a poor place, the environment pushes individuals to support one another. It is generally the case that the labor market lacks the formal structure of wealthier areas. Consequently, the work relationships between the members of a community are generally more intricate where the exchange of money is often combined with an exchange of favors based on kinship, friendship, power structure, and others. It is pretty often that individuals end up performing tasks for others that are valued by the community not so much as hiring but as the support of another community member who, like everyone else, needs some money to survive, which justifies the presence of a financial exchange. There was another family I met with that shared a very similar idea. The same hurricane had destroyed their wooden house, and a group of volunteers from another organization were helping to reconstruct it. This organization had a somewhat similar modus operandi to many other organizations operating in the western world. They deploy volunteers coordinated in the field by someone with more experience. In this case, the house was being constructed with a quality that the beneficiaries would have never even considered owning. I would dare to say that the value of this new house would surpass the value of the previous one by probably 2 or 3 times. As such, the amount of work required was significantly higher, and so was the value of the materials and the precision needed to build it. They were applying the best products available in the market. Each bucket of paint they used to insulate the roof cost 250 dollars. They were putting a lot of effort but were not even following the instructions on the label. Consequently, the progress made in a day was much smaller than the family had expected. At the end of the first few months, the new house was still in its foundations, and they still had to work for about six more months to finish it. During a lovely conversation with the family, I was told the following: There is nothing bad I can say about these guys. They are great. They took time to come here, and I believe they even paid for their tickets. So how could I have anything bad to say about them. But you know, I am very grateful for what they are doing for me, but I don’t need it. The hurricane season is starting in a few weeks, and we still don’t have a place to sleep with my family. I don’t think they think about it. For them, this is a temporary thing.

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They come, they put a few bricks, and then they go back to their comfortable lives. We have received dozens of volunteers, and I don’t think they were even concerned about where we were sleeping. They finished their day, drank a beer, and laughed about the mosquitoes and the cold water. The next morning, they also laughed about the pain in their backs because they had to sleep in a bed that was not very nice while they had breakfast that we prepared in our house. We rebuilt the house of our neighbors in two weeks. We are all builders here. We are all very handy people. But you can see that they don’t know anything about it.

Our conversation was not recorded, so I reproduced it to the best of my memory using the many notes I took. But the strength in his words and the details of his narration are precise. This quotation contains a lot of essential information. He acknowledges and shows gratefulness that he has a crew of volunteers contributing their time and money to help him and his family. Still, similarly to the previous respondent, he emphasizes that this is a temporary situation for these so-called “humanitarian workers.” Not only that, but he criticizes, or envies in a way, that they will go back to comfortable lives, to the point that they seem to make fun of their uncomfortable conditions while in the field, conditions that are permanent to the lives of this family. It is provocative that he considers himself and the rest of the community as handy people, which is usually the case in underprivileged environments where many construction workers tend to leave. He underscores that after the hurricane, the community got together to rebuild houses and could do it in much less time. He mentioned later that this had to do with the fact that the volunteers not only did not know anything about construction, much less about the type of construction with bricks and cement as it happens in most places in Latin-America.1 So, in a sense, he also identified a significant symbolic barrier between his family and the international group. Despite the fact that all the volunteers addressed themselves as international humanitarian workers, even though it was the first experience for some of them, the term generated some animosity, and mixed feelings, if you will. The fact that these individuals were helping in the construction helped construe a welcoming feeling toward them, but the circumstances pointed to an entire set of contradictory emotions. He was trying to be positive, and at some point, during another conversation, he was brave enough to say to me in confidence that I can’t say anything to them. The last thing I want is to make the organization angry and stop the work.

In their eyes, it appears that the term humanitarian would rarely apply. For them, a humanitarian can only be someone with a predisposition to help those around them constantly, someone who lives and breathes solidarity because they have experienced pain and grief and the constant life-long relentless struggle to survive. In a sense, the difference in how individuals from these two groups (traditional humanitarians and local survivors) administer their belief systems affects humanitarian action in a very subtle but extensively familiar way. I refer to a way  During this trip I not only acted as a researcher, but I eventually joined the construction party. I have many years of experience in construction and the first day of work, myself and the homeowner were able to lift almost an entire wall of bricks, something that it was taking many days to other volunteers. A big portion of our conversation took place while we worked together. 1

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many of us have probably already experienced when we confront the person in the bank that has the power to grant a financial loan, the police officer that has the authority to determine whether someone should be kept in custody, the physician who will have our lives in their hands during surgery, and even the pre-school teacher who will look after our kids every day. All these people hold tremendous power over us, and although maybe unconsciously, one pervasive question we ask ourselves is: Who are you to be in that position? What gives you the right to be in that position? And the simple response to these questions is that, most generally, we are on the prowl for that specific individual who “gets us,” who is not only a mechanism for the delivery of a product or service but someone who will have the sensitivity, the amplitude of mind and the consideration to contemplate the many ways in which our lives have been affected by a disaster in which international humanitarian workers are not capable of doing. In the case of local stakeholders, instead, their cognitive representation of what it means to be a humanitarian is cored in the relentless and incessant determination of people to be of service to others during their entire lives. To some extent, this is because many of the members of the population live in harsh circumstances their whole lives. This conception makes them have conflicting feelings toward international humanitarian workers who can return to a comfortable life after the mission. Box: Core Ideas – The Stereotype of the Vulnerable Despite their shared humanity, humanitarian actors from the north and the populations of the global south are not the same. In the minds of those who live a life of privilege, an individual already in a vulnerable condition is prone to suffer more than someone who is not. In their imagery, a context of vulnerability equates to reduced resiliency and the inability to confront a shock. It is inherently wrong that the one assisting is the one that decides the type of assistance that will be provided. The help required must be defined by the one in need of assistance. When this is not the case, the negative impact of assisting is more significant than its benefit.

3.3 A Matter of Evolution 3.3.1 The Materialization Process The first section of this chapter introduced an innovative idea. It presented how the impact of a disaster is felt differently, depending on your vantage point. It emphasized that one problem with the humanitarian response is that the supply of relief is based on the inaccurate interpretation that humanitarian actors have of what a disaster means to those they try to help. In other words, even though the best intentions might drive them, humanitarians rush into someone else’s problems because they overestimate the effects of disasters in societies that have long experienced structural vulnerability.

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It also illustrated the problem associated with the humanitarian convergence that disasters generate. The main point is that there is a different way of understanding humanitarian action. Instead of thinking about it as a linear activity aimed at distributing relief items, there is benefit in focusing the attention on the relationship between survivors and humanitarian actors on the ground. The tangible activities of humanitarian practice are nothing but the visible layer of the meaning that humanitarians assign to the lives of those they try to help. But the problem is that for humanitarian action to be sensitive and relevant, the connection between the two collectives needs to be much more robust and meaningful. It needs to be based on the type of connection that can only be achieved at the level of symbols. Humanitarian leaders must be cognitively perceptive to symbolic structures. The question, then, is how to make this happen. To respond to this question, we must consider that humans are social beings, and their actions, including how they relate to others, are informed by socially constructed mechanisms. This applies to the relationships between all those co-existing in the humanitarian space, including humanitarians and disaster survivors, who belong to opposite sides of the world. And so, to understand, but most importantly, to improve this relationship, we need to decipher how societies come to being and the processes of constructing their culture and identity. Lewis Mumford (1967), an American historian, describes how humans reconcile the subjective and objective aspects of human experience. His views are important and serve as a lens to explain the disconnection that occurs when two individuals in such conflicting and uncertain environments interact. In Mumford’s view, a process that he calls “materialization” occurs inside each human being. According to him, this process “springs from neural activities to which the term ‘mind’ can hardly yet be attached” (p. 421). It continues until an idea is converted into reality at the core of societal interaction. He further explains it as a series of sequential stages that initiate a neurological reaction that eventually becomes an idea that has to arrive, at some point, at a stage of broader socialization. In his own words, “It is by institutional extension that subjective impulses cease to be private, willful, contradictory, and ineffectual, and so become capable of bringing about large social changes” (Mumford 1967, p. 424). This process of materialization is exceptionally important for humanitarian action. It represents the different paths that each society takes to determine what is valuable. This everlasting sequence constantly adapts during the interaction among citizens. But when a phenomenon of disproportionate destructive power manifests, the materialization process becomes tainted, full of flaws, and even dysfunctional. The reconstruction of this fabric of “things” that gives birth to the materialization process could take days to entire lives, depending on what aspects of our beings have been affected and to what extent. This disruption of the materialization process might also be affected on a large scale. The institutions that are the ground for performance could also become affected. So, even if our “selves” were to remain intact, the applicability and operationalization of our ideas would still be impeded, and so would be the definition of value for the entire society.

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It is in this situation, plagued with disruption and challenged materialization processes, when multiple foreign forces, in the shape of governmental agencies, private companies, and social organizations, make their entrance and converge, both noisy at some level but also subliminal at another. All these new characters in the operations theater do not know each other, nor have they shared the process of materialization. However, they mobilize into someone else’s crisis with a pre-existing and well-established individualistic definition of value. Notably, this definition of societal value originated through a materialization process in their place of origin and is, consequently, deeply biased. These multiple materialization processes clash in the field of operations precisely when they try to figure out how to be of service and when those being helped are mostly affected. Allow me to illustrate with a personal story. Nearly 15 years ago, I had the opportunity to work in a hunger and nourishment program in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where I witnessed the extent of western interventionism. During one of the very first days on the job, I was briefed by one of my superiors in the following way: “They are not educated, so they do not understand the idea of nourishment. They just want to have their bellies full, and they think that this is enough.” That explanation made sense at that time. I remember thinking, “of course, they don’t understand the difference. You need to be at least able to read, and then you need to understand the idea of nourishment, for which you at least need to know that not all edible nourish you in the same way.” The story’s point is that the implemented program was not free of challenges. For my superior, it was evident that if they wanted to keep the local population healthy, they needed to feed them with nutritious food, which was not necessarily the same as the type of food the local people used. It was later explained to me that the program had faced some resistance from the local population. In the eyes of some “expert ex-pats,” it was their low level of literacy that they preferred to continue eating what they were eating in the past, even if their food was not as nutritious as the one provided by the organization. And honestly, I can see how someone from the global north can be convinced of that argument. After all, it is a scientific fact that not all foods feed you in the same way. But the issue here is not health, food, or nutrition. It is, in a way, similar to the argument that I can use to explain why in some places, people do not use the crosswalks and just cross the streets wherever they are. In most countries of the developing world, people cross the roads wherever they want. It is not because they do not see the danger in it. Since they were very young, their brains were trained to think differently. At the time of the crossing, they automatically assess various aspects of their lives and almost instantly determine what they know is valid. Some of these aspects are probably common to all, such as the risk involved and how you value the additional time you need to go to the corner and use the crosswalk. But others are not common, such as what your friends would even think of you if you suggested doing that and the likelihood that a police officer might give you a hard time if s/he saw you crossing incorrectly. These mental processes happen in a fraction of a second and are informed by our intimate views of the world but also by formal and informal structures. Such would be the case of a group of friends or the police force, and by higher supra-structures, like the expectations or lack thereof that the society has of its members.

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Box: Disaster Event – Democratic Republic of Congo A quarter the size of the United States, The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) is home to 250 ethnic groups, speaking just as many different languages and living a primarily rural life. It experienced brutal colonial rule from 1885–1960 and gained independence from Belgium on June 30th, 1960. During their years in power, educated Belgians held nearly all of the 5000 government positions. A driving force of Belgian rule was the exploitation of the DRC’s vast resources of natural minerals and fertile land, a practice that continued after independence. Shortly after 1960, the head of the Army, Joseph Mobutu, eliminated the President and Prime Minister and assumed power. Poverty increased among the population more so than under colonial rule. Rwanda’s civil war between Hutu and Tutsi groups in the 1990s spilled over to the DRC. The Tutsis found an ally in Laurent Kabila, leader of the rebel group opposed to Mobutu, while the Hutus were supported by Mobutu. Between 1998–2003 an estimated 3 million people were killed, and another 5.5 million people were displaced, creating the largest population of displaced people in Africa. Resources: Center for Preventative Action. (May 12th 2022). Instability in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Global Conflict Tracker. https://www.cfr.org/global-­ conflict-­tracker/conflict/violence-­democratic-­republic-­congo International Rescue Committee. (May 01st 2007). Mortality in the Democratic Republic of Congo: An Ongoing Crisis. https://www.rescue. org/report/mortality-­democratic-­republic-­congo-­ongoing-­crisis

Going back to the example of the D.R.C., food was not the issue, but the many mental processes that go on in people’s minds; all materialization processes that have been taking place since they were little and are too rooted in their brains. Back home, in Argentina, we drink something called “mate.” It is a type of tea that you drink from a little cup but through a special straw. What is peculiar about this beverage is that, when with a group of friends, we share it; we sit down around the table and drink from the same straw. For people from other cultures, such as the Americans, this is outrageous for many reasons, including that it is a perfect thing to do if you want to share your germs and viruses with others. Back home, we also kiss and hug everybody, even people we do not know well. So, during COVID-19, we all experienced a certain level of unrest because we knew the danger of our cultural practices. Still, for most of us, the obvious alternative was just to continue doing it because that is what we do, what we have been trained to do, and what we enjoy doing, regardless of any logical explanation. It is as simple as that.

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3.3.2 The Externalization of Culture The domestic response to a disaster is mainly made of citizens familiar with the culture, the context, the political and social structure, the history, and the needs and wants of the people. But this is not always necessarily so. Some countries are vast, and the way of life changes dramatically from one side to the other. In the case of disasters that extend across borders, the response is way more complicated and plagued by a mixture of local and foreign actors. One of the main contributions of this book is that it introduces the idea that humanitarian action is not just a concrete human activity. It is also an expression of the cognitive process through which those willing and able to assist determine what those in need mean to them. The other essential premise is that establishing this connection demands that humanitarian leaders are capable of changing their perspective and understanding the institutional structure of the societies where they operate. This is based on the idea that all leaders tend to complete the imagery they produce in their brains and trust to make decisions about their interventions with images of their own, which are not necessarily accurate. Accuracy, in these terms, can only be achieved by those that possess some ability to decipher the historical process through which the symbolic structure of that specific society came to being and how it behaves after a disaster has hit it. One of the main reasons this is so difficult is that a symbolic barrier prevents them from seeing them as equals. To understand this, I would like to share some ideas about the concept of culture, which is the backbone of the institutional theory, which will be discussed in the following chapter. It is the fundamental constitutive element of symbolic constructions. Consequently, any attempt to understand how institutional logics influences humanitarian work requires a revision, a glimpse, if you will, of the role of culture. Tylor presented the first modern conception of culture in 1871 (Peoples and Bailey 1991), close to the beginning of the discussions on institutionalism. He defined it as “that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, customs, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society” (Tylor 1871, p. 1). The literature presents conflicting opinions about the theoretical value of culture, let alone the contradicting ideas about the flow of causality when studied in institutional theory. Hedström and Swedberg (1998) asserted that academic theory that focuses on the implications and effects of culture suffer from the absence of mechanisms to explain causal effects. For Meyer (2003), “one of the objections is that culture is often used as an omnibus concept, a catch-all for all sorts of social traits and dispositions, from folkways to religious rituals and beliefs, from norms and values to traditions of law, from conversation habits to dress codes” (p. 197). Taylor (1993), in turn, reaffirms this position by adding that the word “culture” “is used for a hopeless variety of things” (p. 157). Culture is so complex because, more often than not, it is considered somewhat of an exogenous variable. It is independent of everything else, something we have no

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control over, which is impossible to translate.2 When we think about someone that comes from a different place, all of us automatically think about the culture of the other as something that is beyond us, that is so ingrained, so well established, and rooted in the inner being that will always be impossible for someone foreign to that culture to understand. This is what I call the “externalization of culture.” If you think about it, this new concept complements the materialization processes described in the previous section. The externalization of culture, the idea that the culture of the other is so profoundly different from ours, is that culture is a word that encapsulates what we are today; it is the culmination of the materialization process. One of the most important consequences of the “externalization” of culture is that it is one of the main reasons we choose not to engage. When we meet someone who appears to belong to a different culture, our brain processes a series of symbols showing how we want to relate to that person. The more different s/he looks from us, the more inclined we will be to think that we are culturally different, and the further our cultures are, the more time and effort it takes to establish a close relationship. When this happens, that cognitive process will influence how we define that interaction (Otegui 2019). In most cases, be it for fear, lack of time, sense of belonging, or shame, we will likely choose to connect to those with whom we feel more comfortable, which is, by default, someone that shares our culture. When the cultural distance with someone else is far too big, that person becomes “The Other.” “The other” is an old term used by many disciplines to encapsulate anybody that does not belong to a particular collective. Social psychology, for example, has been interested in how others influence people’s behaviors. From the perspective of attribution theory (one of the branches of social psychology), the man “is an intuitive psychologist who seeks to explain behavior and to draw inferences about actors and their environments” (Ross 1977, p. 173). what this means is that even though most of us are not qualified psychologists, and we cannot accurately articulate what defines “the other,” we all unconsciously attempt to do so. This happens in our daily lives and during a humanitarian operation. “The Other” is an idealization. It exists in the plane of reality embodied in the physical individual in front of us. Still, it also exists in the plane of ideas as the combination of symbols that all of us (including humanitarians) use to define it. In the humanitarian sector, “the other” exists in the minds of the humanitarian as the one who needs assistance. It is both the person we are trying to help and the idealization of what they represent regardless of the needs and circumstances. It is the value that they assign to their involvement in humanitarian efforts. This idea is not exclusive to humanitarians, of course. For local disaster survivors, the other is embodied in the external agent. The materialization processes of such two different collectives (such as service providers from the global north and disaster victims from the global south) cannot but drive them apart. The externalization of culture is the cognitive outcome of historical and social processes that blocks a genuine symbolic connection between them.

 See Dr. Allen’s editorial on seismic culture.

2

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Box: Core Ideas – The Materialization Process and the Externalization of Culture For humanitarian action to be sensitive and relevant, the connection between service providers and disaster victims needs to be robust and meaningful. To improve this relationship, we need to decipher how societies come to being and the processes of constructing their culture and identity. Lewis Mumford (1967), called this process “materialization.” “The Other” is an idealization. It exists in the plane of reality embodied in the physical individual in front of us. It also exists in the plane of ideas as the combination of symbols that all of us (including humanitarians) use to define it. We think about the culture of the other as something that is beyond us, that will always be impossible for someone foreign to that culture to understand. This is what I call the “externalization of culture.”

3.4 The Convergence of Meaning 3.4.1 Converging in Times of Absorption The global community of responders to a disaster event is massive, but not all of them travel to the impacted area. A significant portion of those who do travel “and converge” is driven by their desire to help. The remaining part of that global community of responders also believes they have a legitimate reason to be there, even if that is not to aid. Some might be interested in business opportunities, and others might be looking for adventure, a job, or even impress a partner. Their motivation, however, is always informed by the premise that action must be taken urgently but, most importantly, by their interpretation of what needs to be done. As I write these lines, it has been three weeks since Russia invaded Ukraine, and while I watch the news, I can feel the mood of the western world and their outspoken support for their people. The media has even documented numerous fighters from all over the world, with no relationship with Ukraine or its culture, choosing to engage. This is a current and valid example that shows that society does behave as “an organic whole with a life of its own distinct from and superior to that of all its members in their relations with one another” (Rawls 1971, p. 264) as the great American political philosopher John Rawls puts it. Once the news is out there, the global society reacts. It becomes an unstoppable collective where “the individual within the collective is never, or hardly ever, conscious of the prevailing thought style which almost always exerts a compulsive force upon his thinking, and with which it is not possible to be at variance” (Fleck and Kuhn 1979 p. 41).

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Box: Disaster Event – Russia/Ukraine Ukraine was part of the Russian empire in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It gained independence in September 1991 with the disbanding of the Soviet Union. Yet, many cultural and ethnic similarities exist between the two countries. To the dissatisfaction of Russia, in 2004, Ukraine became a NATO partner, taking steps to become a member nation. In 2013, Ukraine’s pro-­ Russian government rejected an almost closed association agreement between Ukraine and the European Union, which chose to strengthen ties with Russia. In response, protests lasted months and resulted in the death of 100 civilians and President Yanukovych’s ousting from office in 2014. Since then, Russia has gradually annexed portions of Eastern Ukraine. The conflict took the lives of over 13,000 deaths between 2014 and 2020. On February 24th, 2022, Russian forces entered Ukraine with a full-scale invasion and caused Ukraine to sever all formal diplomatic ties with their neighbor. Since the conflict began in 2022, over 4000 people have been killed, and 2 million Ukrainians have been displaced. Vox. (March 2nd, 2022). Putin’s War on Ukraine, Explained. https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=MVu8QbxafJE ReliefWeb. (June 7th, 2022). Ukraine: Civilian Casualties as of 24:00 June 6th, 2022. UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. https:// reliefweb.int/report/ukraine/ukraine-­c ivilian-­c asualties-­2 400-­6 -­j une­2022-­enruuk The motivations and interests of the global community of responders might be different and even contradictory at times. But in our modern world that seems to be plagued by individualism and selfishness, nothing moves the human species more than the suffering of those that lost everything due to a disaster. Post-disaster contexts are a breeding ground for the flourishing of values and actions and are almost, by definition, a place for the heart. The spontaneous and convulsed reaction of hundreds of thousands of individuals from all around the world continues to be astonishingly based on pure desire; on the burning hearts of many who care and are willing to jump into the abyss with nothing but the strongest conviction that their involvement might produce the tiniest and slightest benefit to someone in pain. This conviction still endures today. As Tocqueville smartly puts it: . . . political societies are not what their laws make them, but what sentiments, beliefs, ideas, habits of the heart, and the spirit of the men who form them, prepare them in advance to be, as well as what nature and education have made them. (Tocqueville and Roger, 1985, p. 294) Globalization facilitates movement from and to the most remote places around the world. The essence of this book, however, is not about the physical convergence of responders or their motivations but about the collective meaning that disaster survivors assign to it; what matters the most is how this massive convergence looks

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from the eyes of the native residents. This is a challenging exercise but allow me to guide you through it using the following anecdote. A couple of years ago, my mother was not feeling well and had to be taken to the hospital. She was experiencing pain in her chest. She is a challenging and stubborn woman, and it took us a whole day to convince her to go to the emergency room. A doctor checked on her when upon arrival, and she was immediately admitted. The diagnosis was not good. It turned out that she had an infection in her lungs and heart. I was in the US back then. That same night I took a flight and was in the hospital’s waiting room the following morning. I was sitting there, all by myself, absorbed in my thoughts and praying, waiting anxiously for someone to come out and share with me some good news. I remember my mind wandering around our past. I would look at some pictures on my phone and bring back those incredible memories and feelings from when I was young. Every now and then, my mind would return to reality, forcing me to think about insurance, family members, and money. I would also think about death and try to imagine my dad’s life if God chose to take her by his side. Many hours went by. I was just sitting there, very appreciative of the comfort of a friendly environment when suddenly, I came out of my absorption when dozens of strangers came in. They were noisy and quite disrespectful, to be honest. Some of them were laughing and exchanging anecdotes. They might have been friends or colleagues. They were certainly not family. They were there for a very good reason, but they were not there to help my mom. I remember one of the oldest ladies from the group sitting by my side and sharing a friendly smile as if she acknowledged that the group was not behaving appropriately. She probably noticed that I was sad but wouldn’t say anything to her friends. She kindly told me she would get a coffee and asked if I wanted one. I thanked her and refused. All I wanted was for them to go away. I encourage you now to think about international convergence from a different vantage point. This vantage point centers on what this massive arrival of people means, not to those that converge but to the locals, right after a disaster, a moment when they are immersed and absorbed in a profound reflective process. This is the challenge of today. Not only do we know that the humanitarian machinery acts on inaccurate assumptions, but it is also absorbed in its thinking, immersed in measuring impacts and assessing needs. These many people are too narrow-minded (I mean no disrespect) and too focused on their own goals and motivations that they do not know and could not possibly know what their convergence means to others. On top of all this, the pieces of the humanitarian machinery come from all over the world. They are manufactured using different materials, follow and abide by different standards, function on various norms, and are lightly connected by similar principles but not necessarily the same. And because of all this, it moves forward without paying much attention to the actual adverse effects of its presence, which are much more powerful and way more subtle than we think.

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3.4.2 The Previous Boundaries of the Humanitarian Space Participation in disaster response does not only occur inside the frontiers of a sovereign country. In today’s world, when a disaster occurs, information travels at the speed of light to every corner of the earth in a matter of seconds. Established and well-renowned humanitarian organizations and unorganized individuals worldwide rapidly mobilize to aid the affected society. They all travel long distances and converge in the impacted location in what has been called a “mass assault,” an episode that “brings to the disaster scene individuals ranging from the most professional technical responders … to untrained, albeit well-meaning volunteers” (Buck et al. 2006, p. 20). The current humanitarian system is not as homogeneous as it used to be. Instead, it is “a number of different systems, each with its own capacities, motivations, and incentive structures” (UN-OCHA 2016, p. 13). And beyond that, among these interconnected systems, those that have traditionally been marginalized, and disregarded (such as the systems of the countries from the global south), are flourishing. The fact that the systems from the north are “listening more” is certainly important, but so is that the peoples from the global south are becoming more connected to the international community, with more capable and knowledgeable populations and leaders, and they are slowly starting to claim their right to be heard. In a way, our modern world is pushing humanitarian actors to re-think (Carbonnier 2015) and reposition themselves relative to local populations. This is because one of the new players within the newly defined humanitarian space is the aid recipients themselves. Not so long ago, the reflective process about the relevance of humanitarian action and the harm that it can produce led to the realization that the local populations do not have to be mere recipients of aid. They can also be esteemed and valuable partners who can contribute to the provision of support. Eventually, with little to no time to adjust and analyze its consequences, the boundaries of the humanitarian space broadened, and the local populations suddenly found themselves not only having to deal with the distress of disasters and crises but also with the responsibility to lead, and the possibility to be blamed. This approach was flawed. It assumed that there is some sort of a “spatial dimension” to equality, that to elevate the status of the affected local population and “make them” be trusted partners, all that was needed was to guarantee them a seat at the table. This is far from right. Bizarrely, this approach was based on the premise that all humans are the same, and thus we deserve to be in charge of our own lives. So far, so good. Nothing wrong with this. The problem arises when this conception mechanically translates into that we all understand stuff the same way; that we all define things in the same manner, that after a disaster, we all have similar feelings, that needs are needs, and that can be systematically assessed and that all humanitarian operations should be identical. This approach confuses the universality of humanity with the universality of ideas, which are two entirely different things. The universality of humanity does exist just because it means that we are all human. The universality of ideas, on the

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other hand, does not exist. We all understand the reality in front of us differently. This critical distinction makes equality much more complicated than opening the doors to the humanitarian space, especially in the international arena. With this evolution, the boundaries of the post-disaster space (which includes the humanitarian) have become more enigmatic and elusive, and so has its nature. The convergence of the massive global community of responders is thus no longer defined by the movement of foreign forces towards the impacted location as the founding fathers of disaster sciences once explained it, nor is it exclusively physical. Convergence also occurs in the plane of symbols. All those that converge are driven by distinctive and often contradicting cognitive schemas that are difficult for others to understand and assimilate. Political ideologies and affiliations, interpretations of value, spiritual beliefs, philosophies, management approaches, etc., are all “ideas” that converge with people. In a more diverse and densely populated arena, post-disaster contexts are no longer driven by the values of a homogenous collective but by a process in which all actors must resolve the contradictions and tensions between their sense-making and that of others. When they come together, foreign and local souls bring their principles, values, and other distinctive features of the societies where they belong. Post-­ disaster and humanitarian contexts are consequently not so much defined by the impact of a hazardous event as by the “convergence of meanings” of multiple actors navigating adrift. They try to understand the disrupted reality through their sense-­ making processes while figuring out the meaning each assigns to the others. The disaster literature, consequently, should not focus its attention on examining “the relationship between the disaster as a stressor event and its subsequent outcomes on affected persons and systems” (Dodds and Nuehring 1996, p. 33), but in studying the “Global Post-Disaster Symbolic System,” a system defined by the intercourse of all converging symbols and processes.

3.4.3 Humanitarian Action as a Relational Discipline Even though we all meet and interact with hundreds of thousands of people throughout our lives, how we relate with others is just the materialization of something much more profound. Our values, attitudes, and beliefs influence how we see the world, but also how we perceive the role of others in our own lives and, ultimately, how we treasure human relations. And so, relations are also a definition, a claim, or even a statement of what we think this world is all about. This is especially so in the case of a post-disaster operation. As part of the response to the disruption generated by an international event, individuals must engage with others in strange ways. A cognitive process is triggered when thousands of people from around the world converge and meet with the local population (Otegui 2021). The process is aimed at deciphering the role of those other humans and is stressful, tiring, and uncertain. Sometimes in a matter of

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hours, foreign and local actors interact with one another, trying to understand life from the vantage point of the other. Humanitarian action is not (and should not) just about assisting others. This is an oversimplification of a much more profound idea. It is how humans seek the well-­ being of others in an organized manner. It is also an expression of how the global community of responders interprets the suffering of others deemed similar. It only differs from other circumstances in that it occurs in a well-defined sphere called the “humanitarian space.” The humanitarian space is a relatively new concept born during the Cold War era (Collinson et al. 2012). In its origins, it was primarily used as an idea to describe an operating environment for humanitarian actors (Abild 2010). It has lately evolved to become a complex “political, military and legal arena” (Hammond and Vaughan-­ Lee 2012, p. 3) for providing protection and assistance. The term invokes the existence of a territory where those who self-identify with humanitarianism can anchor the values and principles that represent them. This is the arena where they reach for answers, information, support, and validation. It is ultimately a force of attraction that facilitates a collective imagination of social life, which humanitarians use to engage with post-disaster social dynamics. The humanitarian space is also a cognitive space where meaning about things and people is assigned through symbolic constructions. These symbolic constructions help us find a point of reference from which we can determine how we relate to others. This includes humanitarian leaders and local survivors. What generally goes unnoticed is that, even though both collectives are attracted to the same space by a joint force, they are driven apart by fundamentally different values and principles (Burnes and Jackson 2011). When members of both collectives find themselves sharing the same space, they try to decipher what is important to them, but it is also where they attempt to determine what is important to others. This is a crucial process at which everybody often fails. Humanitarian leaders try to decipher what is relevant for those they serve, and according to their assessments, they decide how they will respond. It is also where disaster victims and survivors value all aspects of their new post-disaster life (including having external forces assisting them). Yet, how local communities assign value to their reality and define what is relevant is often unknown to outsiders, including the “tribe” of humanitarian decision-makers. Essentially, underneath the tangible, highly visible, and concrete activities that humanitarians do, humanitarian action is about connections between humanitarian providers and those they try to help. A relationship that is built between two groups of individuals that may not know each other, that are incredibly different from one another, and many times, they even come from opposite sides of the world. It is about tens of thousands of people coming together to help and to be helped. Because of this, one of the fundamental challenges of the current humanitarian and emergency management enterprise is improving how all those involved relate to one another (Otegui 2020). And for this, we need to devote efforts to understanding how underlying beliefs, principles, and societal norms, which are historically and culturally grounded, influence how all collectives involved interpret the post-disaster context.

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In summary, these two collectives, humanitarians on one side and the local populations on the other determine what is relevant to themselves and others in a private and thus unknown way. This symbolic divide may be a fundamental reason why the relationship between the two has long been found to be unequal and asymmetrical (Worms 2010), abusive (Rességuier 2018), and problematic (Davey 2012). Box: Core Ideas – Multiple Humanitarian Actors Resolving Contradictions and Tensions The boundaries of the humanitarian space have expanded. The local populations now have to deal with the distress of disasters, with the responsibility to lead, and the possibility of being blamed. International convergence is no longer exclusively physical. It also occurs in the plane of symbols. Post-disaster contexts are defined by the “convergence of meanings” of multiple actors who must resolve the contradictions and tensions between their sense-making and that of others. Humanitarian action is not (and should not) just about assisting others. It is how humans seek the well-being of others in an organized manner, an expression of how the global community of responders interprets the suffering of others deemed similar.

References Abild, Erik. 2010. Creating humanitarian space: A case study of Somalia. Refugee Survey Quarterly 29 (3): 67–102. Allen, Tim. 1990. Putting people first again: Non-governmental organizations and the ‘new orthodoxy’ for development. Disasters 14 (1): 63–68. Buck, Dick A., Joseph E. Trainor, and Benigno E. Aguirre. 2006. A critical evaluation of the incident command system and NIMS. Journal of Homeland Security and Emergency Management 3 (3). https://doi.org/10.2202/1547-­7355.1252. Burnes, Bernard, and Philip Jackson. 2011. Success and failure in organizational change: An exploration of the role of values. Journal of Change Management 11 (2): 133–162. https://doi. org/10.1080/14697017.2010.524655. Carbonnier, Gilles. 2015. Reason, emotion, compassion: Can altruism survive professionalisation in the humanitarian sector? Disasters 39 (2): 189–207. Collinson, Sarah, Samir Elhawary, and Matthew Foley. 2012. Humanitarian space: A review of trends and issues. London: Overseas Development Institute. Davey, E. 2012. New players through old lenses: Why history matters when engaging with Southern actors, HPG policy brief. London: ODI. Dodds, Sally, and Elane Nuehring. 1996. A primer for social work research on disasters. In Research on social work and disasters, ed. Calvin L. Streeter and Susan A. Murty. New York: Haworth Press. Fleck, Ludwik, and Thomas S. Kuhn. 1979. Genesis and development of a scientific fact. Translated by Fred Bradley and Thaddeus J Trenn. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hammond, Laura, and Hannah Vaughan-Lee. 2012. Humanitarian space in Somalia: A scarce commodity. London: Humanitarian Policy Group.

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Hedström, Peter, and Richard Swedberg. 1998. Social mechanisms: An introductory essay. In Social mechanisms: An analytical approach to social theory, ed. Peter Hedström and Richard Swedberg. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hughes, Everett C. 1936. The ecological aspect of institutions. American Sociological Review 1 (2): 180–189. Meyer, Heinz-Dieter. 2003. Tocqueville’s Cultural Institutionalism: Reconciling Collective Culture and Methodological Individualism. Journal of Classical Sociology 3 (2): 197–220. Mumford, Lewis. 1967. The myth of the machine. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. Otegui, Diego. 2019, March. Can gangs play a role in providing relief? Humanitarian Alternatives, n°10: 100–109. http://alternatives-­humanitaires.org/en/2019/03/25/ can-­gangs-­play-­role-­providing-­relief/ ———. 2020. The concealed weaknesses of strong early warning systems. The case of Mexico. Scientific Papers of the Main School of Fire Service. Issue 74: 93–111. https://zeszytynaukowe-­ sgsp.pl/resources/html/article/details?id=206334 ———. 2021. Understanding the cognitive gap between humanitarians and survivors during humanitarian operations. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 63. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2021.102427. Peoples, James G., and Garrick Alan Bailey. 1991. Humanity: An introduction to cultural anthropology. St. Paul: West Pub. Co. Rawls, John. 1971. A theory of justice. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Rességuier, A. 2018. The moral sense of humanitarian actors: An empirical exploration. Disasters 42 (1): 62–80. https://doi.org/10.1111/disa.12234. Rodriguez, Havidan, Tricia Wachtendorf, James M.  Kendra, and Joseph E.  Trainor. 2006. A snapshot of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami: Societal impacts and consequences. Disaster Prevention and Management 15: 163. Ross, Lee. 1977. Advances in Experimental Social Psychology Volume 10. Essay. In the intuitive psychologist and his shortcomings: Distortions in the attribution process, 173–220. Elsevier. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0065-2601(08)60357-3. Tierney, Kathleen J. 1999. Toward a critical sociology of risk. Sociological Forum: Official Journal of the Eastern Sociological Society 14 (2): 215–242. Tocqueville, Alexis de, and Roger Boesche. 1985. Selected letters on politics and society. Berkeley: University of California Press. Tylor, E.B. (-). A. du texte 1871. Primitive culture: Researches into the development of mythology, philosophy, religion, language, art and custom. Vol. 1 by Edward B. Tylor, … London. Taylor, Michael. 1993. Structure, Culture, and Action in the Explanation of Social Change. In William James Booth, Patrick James and Hudson Meadwell, (eds), Politics and Rationality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 89–131. United Nations. 2005. Regional workshop on lessons learned and best practices in the response to the Indian Ocean tsunami: Report and summary of main conclusion, Medan, Indonesia. United Nations. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, Collaborative for Development Action, and CDA Collaborative Learning Projects. 2016. Leaving no one behind. Humanitarian effectiveness in the age of the Sustainable Development Goals. Edited by Matthew Easton. Ocha policy and studies series. New York?: OCHA. Vaux, Tony. 2006. Humanitarian trends and dilemmas. Development in Practice 16 (3): 240–254. Wachtendorf, Tricia, and James M.  Kendra. 2004. Considering Convergence, coordination and social capital in disasters. Disaster Research Center, Preliminary Papers, 342a. Worms, Frederic. 2010. Le moment du soin. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.

Chapter 4

Institutional Humanitarianism

4.1 Battling to Reconcile Demands We have already covered a lot of ground, and I am hopeful that you have enjoyed what you read so far. I introduced you to the basics of convergence theory. Then I guided you on how to go about understanding the implications of this massive modern global phenomenon by discussing the role of evolution and how it affects the different perspectives that humanitarians and survivors have of disasters. Now it is time to dive into deeper waters. For many years, they have instilled in us, and we have all (including humanitarians) bought into the idea that humanitarian decisions are objectively made and based on the needs of the people and the circumstances created by the disaster event. This is far from true. If post-disaster decisions were objectively and exclusively based on local needs, all humanitarians worldwide would make the same decisions. That is certainly not the case. The “needs” of the people are nothing but another piece of information used to make decisions. It is filtered and processed like other information, such as geopolitical interests, funding restrictions, and changes in domestic legislation. International deployments, and the humanitarian convergence they produce, are the aggregate outcome of the decisions made by those in charge of relief operations. They must figure out things related to humanitarian crises thousands of miles away. They need to decide whether or not to deploy a team of people, where exactly they will be deployed, what they need to carry with them, for how long they will be deployed, the type of service that will be provided, the profile, and necessary qualifications of the team members, and even how the whole operation is going to be financed. What is important for this chapter is that humanitarian leaders make these decisions under the extreme pressure of multiple simultaneous demands. These demands are deeply intertwined but exist on three levels: the individual, the organization, and society. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1_4

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These officials can be experienced leaders that act within the structure of highly renowned and established organizations, or they can be just highly motivated, under-resourced, poorly qualified, immature humanitarians. They have different levels of expertise, knowledge, experience, and training, but they are all responsible for making decisions that affect relief operations. They all want to serve those in despair and move forward, almost blinded by the humanitarian imperative. As you probably guessed, one of the least explored dimensions of humanitarian action is how humanitarian actors (both humanitarian providers and recipients) deal with and reconcile these demands. Needless to say, this is a complicated and confusing process in which too many fail. It is almost impossible to figure out a conscious way to reconcile those demands with disconcerting information in a context of uncertainty, for the process is determined and manipulated by symbolic constructions that are unwittingly intertwined in our cognitive system. This cognitive process exists in all minds but is radically different in all societies. In their article, Waller and Homewood (1997) guide us through a very nicely written recent story where western veterinarians managed to impose their way of taking care of the cattle on the Massai tribe. This particular tribe, contrary to the view of the west, has been treating the disease as a regular aspect of their lives. Instead of inoculating their cattle with vaccines and medicines, they understand that the body must build a natural resilience. Thus, they ensure healthy cattle interact with sick cattle to develop their defenses. The article then moves on to explain the difficulties that the tribe had to confront when they decided to follow western advice, changed their method, and started vaccinating their cattle. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, and I invite the reader to read the article to see how the story ends. As you might expect, it didn’t end well for the Massai. I mentioned it because I wanted to bring to your attention that the western world cannot just go somewhere with its own ideas and playbooks and expect the outcomes to be the same as back home. Before doing so, humanitarian leaders must consider the multiple demands that affect them and only afterward analyze what strategy to suggest to the local people. In summary, humanitarian leaders are not so much in the process of leading relief operations as they are in the job of battling to reconcile demands that exist on multiple levels. Increasing our understanding of such demands and how leaders deal with them is a critical responsibility of modern humanitarian practice and is the focus of this section. Box: Core Ideas – Figuring Out Demands Humanitarian leaders make decisions under the extreme pressure of multiple simultaneous demands. These demands are deeply intertwined but exist on three levels: the individual, the organization, and society. They must consider how these demands affect them and only afterward analyze what strategy to suggest to the local people.

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4.2 Three Nested-Levels Humanitarian Demands 4.2.1 Societal Expectations Due to the international nature of the work they do, humanitarians are affected and forced to comply with societal expectations, which are “internalized social norms for individuals and organizations, thus for society as a whole, about what people should do” (Hasegawa et al. 2007, p. 180). Domestic societal expectations present themselves in multiple formats. When a disaster happens, whether they choose to engage or not, they become under the scrutiny of many stakeholders. When they receive government money, they are bound by laws and regulations. When they raise money from individuals, they are additionally bounded by the expectations of those individual donors. Organizations are also pressed to conform to specific ways of doing things. In the United States, for instance, the emergency management sector has growingly tended to be conceived as a structure highly dependent on standardized processes that provide predictability (Andrew and Kendra 2012). Many humanitarian organizations act domestically but were founded to operate internationally. And when they do, they have to abide by the perceptions and understandings of those that stay at home. Often, this transfers into managerial mechanisms that are essentially bureaucratic, rigid, and standardized, which are not always compatible with the way they do things in the places where they operate. Expectations also exist in intangible higher-level supra-structures where organizations and individuals generally convene. Its boundaries are not political, geographical, or legal but mostly societal and defined by symbolic connections (Cohen 1989). In the case of humanitarian action, for instance, they are all part of one unique community filled with potent symbolism. This community is called the humanitarian space (Abild 2010) and is where many sector-driven expectations are born. The humanitarian imperative is one such expectation. The humanitarian imperative is the first of the ten principles of the Code of Conduct for the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement and NGOs in Disaster Relief. It was created in 1992 by the Steering Committee for Humanitarian Response (SCHR) to advocate for those in pain. In the past decades, it has become a pennant that distinguishes all those who share and interlace under a common conscience of service to others. As such, it bounds the interpretation and determines the path to follow for millions of individuals. It is ideal; it exists beyond the pursuit of money, how society is regulated, or the specific Deity in which someone might believe. Another expectation born in the humanitarian space is to improve the quality of life and minimize the suffering of the people they serve. The western humanitarian sphere has increasingly encouraged humanitarian organizations to master the context in which they operate, protect the views of local stakeholders, strengthen local capacities, and emphasize locally driven responses (ICVA 2020; Alexander 2006; Portsea 1992; McEntire 1997).

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4.2.2 Organizational Requirements We interact with multiple organizations permanently, all of which have structures, hierarchies, policies, regulations, and procedures. These are all in place to define what is possible and not within their boundaries, but they also influence how people understand and give meaning to what happens inside them. When we go to church, meet with one of our child’s teachers, present a claim in a governmental agency, or are at work, our mindsets change, and a new cognitive structure is born. This cognitive structure allows all individuals to find a sense of belonging to this new space and develop a series of symbols that help us connect to others within that space (Cohen 1989). Humanitarian leaders must also comply with and advocate for their organization’s many regulations and interests. One such interest is funding. International humanitarian organizations manage a lot of money. After the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 2004, international funding was estimated at USD 13.5 billion (Telford and Cosgrave 2007). Even in more minor disasters, the amount of money required to manage an international intervention is extraordinary for several reasons. First, in the mindset of the humanitarian sector, everybody needs assistance, so the more they can collect, the more people are being served. Humanitarians have a shared understanding that they are always under-resourced, no matter how much money they have. And this is because each of them is moved by the idea that they are responsible for assisting everybody, everywhere, all the time. This expansionist mentality drives them to think it is never enough. Humanitarian leaders regularly make decisions about possible interventions according to the needs of the survivors. But the reality is that they are also driven by the needs and wants of their organizations. What is more, to some extent, they are also informed by the societal expectations described above. The organization, and sometimes even departments within those organizations, exercise tremendous pressure in defining the nature and scope of interventions. But remember that every time there is a disaster, the volume of available post-disaster funds increases dramatically. Hence, disasters are an extraordinary opportunity to increase the level of income. If you think about it, this context is the source of a compelling demand that pushes decision-makers to have a pro-intervention mindset.

4.2.3 Self-Imposed Pressures But this is not the end of the story. Like everybody else in this world, humanitarian leaders have to struggle with internal demands on top of societal and organizational demands. Some of these are born within their intimate space, such as those demands from family members and close friends. Some other demands are exclusively internal and are historically and culturally grounded. They are the outcome of the personal, individual materialization process described in the previous chapter.

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This is to say that those “outer” demands that come from the society at large, and the organizations where they work, have to be reconciled with their own beliefs and understandings. I have come across hundreds, if not thousands, of humanitarian workers from almost every country. And I noticed that they have strong personalities and are generally highly opinionated. Most of them are soaked in this ethos that humanitarian work is the impersonation of a savior without whom the “other” does not stand a chance. And when this imagery drives someone, their level of commitment is such that it affects that process of reconciliation. This happens to the point that they are willing to sacrifice things that all of us hold dear but that many are not willing to abandon, such as the birthday of a daughter, the graduation of a son, and attending the funeral of a friend. Lastly, human interaction also takes place in the minds of individuals. This idea might be difficult to grasp but believe me when I say it is probably the most important. Presenting human interaction within the tangible boundaries of an organization or the intangible limits of society might give the impression that human interaction exists “out there,” beyond our control and defined by something external to us. But even though there is some truth to this, the things that happen “out there” put a lot of pressure and frame our sense-making processes; how we see and understand the reality in front of us ultimately happens in our brains. If this were not the case, two individuals from the same society, working in the same organization, would essentially understand life similarly. And we know that this is not true. What makes us different is that all individuals have agency, and they can decide whether they want to comply with external demands and expectations or defy them. And this also applies to human interaction because “us” cognitively defines what relationships mean and the practical and empirical materialization of that idea. Box: Core Ideas – Reconciling Demands at Three Different Levels Humanitarian leaders are affected and forced to comply with societal expectations. They exist in intangible higher-level supra-structures. They must also comply with and advocate for their organization’s many regulations and interests, that exercise tremendous pressure in defining the nature and scope of interventions. Lastly, they must reconcile those demands with their beliefs and understandings.

4.3 Institutional Logics 4.3.1 Bringing Cognition into the Mix Although all individuals are constantly exposed to multi-layered demands, the demands faced by humanitarian workers and emergency managers are significantly different from those most of us experience during our lives. First and foremost, they

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exist in contexts of life and death, where there is no room for error. In this sense, they are similar to the demands that affect medical doctors or firefighters. Secondly, in the case of international disasters, emergency workers make decisions about things that need to happen in a place half away around the world. This matters because aiding is not straightforward. It requires knowing how the one being helped understands reality. Unless you are providing medical attention that is presumed to be the same all around the world, aiding someone in the street in your hometown is difficult enough. Assisting someone that adheres to rules and norms that are diametrically different from yours can lead you to help in a way that is insensitive and even detrimental to that person. I would say that the third most important reason is that it is not just them providing relief. Making decisions in a context of isolation is more manageable because your choices go unchallenged. International post-disaster convergence is quite peculiar because it is an environment plagued by thousands of others. Continuing with the example above, two doctors may disagree about the best surgical plan, but at the end of the day, the problem is resolved within the confines of a known space and between people familiar with one another. In this sense, humanitarian action is different. Conflict exists among peers that are driven by divergent value systems. The fourth and last reason is related to the fact that humanitarian actors are not helping a single individual but large groups of people. Post-disaster responses are many-to-many operations delivered by mostly disconnected entities for thousands of individuals and groups. They belong to the same sociological structure, but each faces unique circumstances. This significantly reduces the ability to forecast the likelihood of success, eventually becoming the source of unbearable tension. Paying attention to the specifics of the many multi-layered demands that affect humanitarian workers helps us realize that there is a need to understand humanitarian action in a new way. This new way departs significantly from the oversimplified shared imagination that humanitarian action is a direct response to the objective assessment of the needs of people that are considered to require assistance. Understanding humanitarian operations, their associated deployments, and the convergence they generate requires discerning what goes on in the minds of those that occupy the humanitarian space. Ultimately, the challenge is understanding the cognitive processes of humanitarian actors (including those affected by disasters). Human cognition has been of scientific interest since the time of Aristotle in the years 300 BC. Since then, many disciplines have focused their interest on understanding the ways of the mind, how it affects human experience and what are the consequences for human action. Social psychology, for instance, seeks to understand how the presence of others influences people in a social context. This specific body of knowledge studies the relationship to others, whether imagined or implied (Allport 1985, p. 5). Sociology and anthropology consider society at large, including aspects of social interaction and culture. Other disciplines, such as psychology, neuroscience, and even philosophy, also fall within the realm of cognitive sciences but tend to focus more on the individual. Sense-making is another one of them, but it occupies a central role in disaster literature (Tierney and Trainor 2004) and “refers to the challenging task of

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developing an adequate interpretation of what are often complex, dynamic, and ambiguous situations” (Stern and Saathoff 2012, p. 4). Sense-making is especially important in times of disaster because it allows those involved to “reconcile contradictory or competing frames of reference” (Altay and Labonte 2014, p. 54). This particular theoretical framework departs from traditional decision-making models in that decision-­making is “built from clear questions and clear answers.” At the same time, sense-making is a process built on “vague questions, muddy answers, and negotiated agreements that attempt to reduce confusion” (Weick 1993, p. 636). Scientific research has demonstrated that individuals understand life according to their own cognitive structure and processes and that it is easier for each of us to process information that is related to our “self” than to process data related to other people or other contexts (Breckler et al. 1991). At its core, this book is concerned with the cognitive space that bounds the notions of the life of both humanitarians and disaster victims. It is interested in presenting how they struggle to simplify the meaning of the complex social phenomena that surround them. Still, it is also concerned with how these individuals harmonize their personal and subjective interpretations with existing organizational and societal demands. This section tackles this aspect of humanitarian life by presenting institutional logics, a theoretical framework from a larger body of knowledge called Institutional theory. Institutional theory has been a substantial area of study for nearly 200 years. It has been a focus of attention of the greatest minds in the field of economics, politics, and sociology, including Veblen, Schmoller, Menger, Tocqueville, Marx, and Weber. This approach to studying human behavior has evolved over time and continues to expand and surprise modern scholars. One of the latest additions is that of Friedland and Alford (1991), who presented their theory of inter-institutional systems and their dominant institutional logics. The theory developed as a critique to other institutional theories for failing to acknowledge how individuals and organizations are influenced in different social contexts (Thornton et al. 2012), a key element in this book. Institutional Logics is a perfect tool because it offers incredibly theoretical flexibility. It will allow me to introduce the reader to the role of beliefs, principles, and societal norms and their effect on how humanitarian officials interpret information and make post-disaster-related decisions. Also, it can help us decipher how humanitarians and disaster victims reconcile the cognitive pressures at the three levels of analysis by reducing the analytical distance between the individual, the organization, and society. Most importantly, it will help us learn how the outcome of this process influences how each of them interprets what those belonging to a different collective mean to them. It is essentially a robust theoretical framework, ideal for appreciating the essence of the interaction between providers and recipients of assistance in international contexts. But I must warn the reader. Institutional theory is not easy. As Scott (2014) put it, “if a naïve scholar strides into the maelstrom of institutional/organization scholarship and research without assistance, he or she will emerge with a migraine if not a concussion and will be hard-pressed to ascertain what the central discussion is

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about, let alone how to join the conversation productively.” If it is so complex, the reader must wonder why to use it in a book that, despite citing tons of academic literature, is not essentially academic. The response is two-fold. First, I believe that humanitarian action, and consequently all that we know about it, has been narrowly studied by disciplines that do not quite capture the complexities and the role of human cognition and its relationship with higher-order organizational and societal structures. But there is another critical reason. As Colombo, Masera, and Bologna put it, “operating within a particular theoretical orientation provides focus, inquiry processes, and analytical procedures and yields certain kinds of findings that are a matter of core interest and priority for the community of inquiry engaged in studying the world through the lenses offered by that shared theoretical perspective” (2013, p. 21).

4.3.2 Institutions An institution is a construct that dates back several decades and has been addressed and defined in various ways. For Veblen, they are “settled habits of thought common to the generality of man” (Veblen 1909, p. 239). Sumner, one of the early institutional theorists, said that “an institution consists of a concept (idea, notion, doctrine, interest) and a structure” (Sumner and Keller 1906, p. 53). Weber paved the way for the construction of more recent formulations, emphasizing the extent to which all sectors and their constituent organizations contain multiple, competing conceptions of rational behavior (Scott 2014, p. 16). Friedland and Alford (1991) proposed that “institutions are supra-organizational patterns of human activity by which individuals and organizations produce and reproduce their material subsistence and organize time and space. They are also symbolic systems, ways of ordering reality, and thereby rendering the experience of time and space meaningful” (p. 243). Lammers and Barbour (2006) stated that institutions are “constellations of established practices guided by formalized, rational beliefs that transcend particular organizations and situations” (p. 364). These are all abstract notions and are challenging to apply analytically (Thornton et al. 2012). It helps to think of them as intangible symbolic supra-structures that allow us to make sense of the way that “a particular social world works” (Jackall 1988, p. 118), as they “provide stimulus, guidelines, and resources for acting as well as prohibitions and constraints on action” (Scott 2014, p. 58). Essentially, they help us understand “how individuals and organizational actors are influenced by their situation in multiple social locations in an interinstitutional system” (Thornton et al. 2012, p. 2). Scholars have also deliberated extensively about which are those institutions and how many they are. For instance, Friedland and Alford (1991) proposed six: “family, religion, state, market, profession, and corporation.” Besharov and Smith (2014) presented the “community” as a separate institution, and Goodrick and Reay (2011) suggested the same thing of “fields and industries.” But all existing lists are merely

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suggestive. Societies are generally organized according to a set of functions, and the number of institutions varies to satisfy those functions. You will notice that all institutions share some essential characteristics. The first and most important is that all institutions are available to all individuals to draw from. Institutions are ideal spaces that bound the way individuals and organizations think about things. They provide a sense of direction so we can all share an understanding of what is possible and what is not. Institutions exist for everyone to draw from. That does not mean that all individuals draw from them in the same way. The second attribute is that we all prioritize institutions differently. In other words, each institution’s governing principles and values affect us differently. This happens because each inter-institutional system (the combination and interaction of multiple institutions) is society-specific, for they are the outcome of historical and cultural processes (Thornton et al. 2012). Consequently, two individuals belonging to different institutional arrangements (like countries in various places of the development continuum and historical context) will tend to value institutions differently. Communities with larger populations tend to be governed by a formal public structure (Peoples and Bailey 1991). In more traditional civilizations, on the other hand, communities tend to be smaller, and social order is more dependent upon kinship than rigid structures defined by law. Being this so, the importance of the “state” as the dominant institution and the government as the commanding actor loses significance when compared to “developed” societies. Similarly, the market as an institutional order, and even the rules and regulations that define actions within it, vary drastically between emergent economies and wealthy nations. The third important characteristic is that the prioritization of institutions also varies over time (Thornton et al. 2012). I have a nice story to share to explain why this happens. Nearly 15  years back, when I was in the Democratic Republic of Congo, one of my staff and I went to do some errands close by. We did not know each other well. I believe I had been there for only a few weeks. While driving, I asked him about his children just to make some conversation. He took his eyes off the road, looked at me, and with a candid smile, said, “I have several.” I opened my eyes with some intrigue and asked: How many? Nine, he replied. I shared with him a little smile and dared to ask if he was happy working with us. I shared a bit of a concern that what the organization was paying us might not be enough. It surprised me when he responded that money was “not that big of a deal for him anymore.” These were his exact words. He then shared that he had lost one of his kids, who had been abducted by one of the armed groups. He shared with me that life had taken a whole new meaning since then. He sort of blamed himself for the loss. In his mind, having stayed so much away from his family was why his son was taken in the first place. So now he was happy and grateful that he could earn less money but be more available to protect and enjoy his loved ones. In his mind, one single event triggered a reprioritization of institutions. The idea of a family suddenly replaced previous concepts such as the market, money, and profession. The final characteristic that all institutions share is that their nature, usually taken-for-granted (Lammers and Barbour 2006), evolves and changes. The way

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institutions are presented could give the impression that they exist separate from one another in rigidly defined compartments with fixed and observable boundaries. They are often presented analytically as ideal types to make their relevant features more distinct and unambiguous (Weber and Shils 1949). In reality, they are intertwined in complex inter-institutional systems (Friedland and Alford 1991), and all institutions affect one another. Their “institutional boundaries” are constantly negotiated (Lammers and Barbour 2006), “contested and hence fluid” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 262). This is so because, similarly to individuals and organizations, institutions have a unique interest in survival (DiMaggio 1988). This implies that each institution faces the dilemma of accepting the demands of different actors and competing for their patronage (Hughes 1936). The case of religion is an excellent example. Before the sixteenth century, Christianity was defined by a series of values and theological doctrines. Its very essence was then challenged by those who rejected the Roman Catholic doctrine of papal supremacy and supported the priesthood of all believers. The changes of an institution can also be seen in applying its guiding principles in specific contexts. To continue with the same example, religion has played a critical role in the humanitarian sphere, but this role has fluctuated over time. Suppose we were to see a more robust commitment of religious leaders to propose and emphasize the importance of spiritual principles in delivering humanitarian aid. In that case, it could be possible to notice changes in the humanitarian architecture, with an increase in post-disaster donations to religious organizations and an additional focus on delivering spiritual support.

4.3.3 Reconciling Interpretations with Logics According to Friedland and Alford (1991), we draw from symbolic constructions at three nested levels (individual, organization, and society) and are constantly forced to make sense of the three simultaneously. We have to pay attention to what is possible and what is not within an organization. We have to follow the values, norms, and principles of higher-order societal structures. We do all this while paying attention to our personal beliefs and understandings. This means that symbolic constructions influence our cognitive systems at the three levels. They are used by individual practitioners, for instance, to construe what they consider to be the essence of humanitarian work and find meaning in their actions. Within organizations, institutional logics also plays a critical role. According to the theory, “organizational fields are made up of a variety of organizations that have their values anchored in different societal-level institutional orders” (Thornton et al. 2012, p. 44). This means that organizations within the humanitarian space may have values anchored in different institutional orders. World Vision (religion), ALNAP (profession), USAID (state), and Google Disaster Response (corporation) are good examples. The fact that they all belong to the same field is not enough to

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understand why and how they differ, why and if they cooperate or compete, and the efforts they put into ensuring their uniqueness. This does not mean that organizations that share the “home institution” will always behave similarly. The institutional logics perspective also acknowledges that both individuals and organizations have agency within the boundaries and constraints of each institutional order. This is so because they are constantly faced with different, many times contradicting logics of other institutions. Being this so, Word Vision and Christian Aid, as well as many other organizations whose primary values are anchored in the institution of religion, constantly push the boundaries of their own identity. The same is true for other actors. Likewise, the agency of these logics extends to the level of society, where humanitarians share the “humanitarian space.” Conversations within this space are regularly affected and even silently disturbed by profound dilemmas. One of such dilemmas is to what extent the western humanitarian machinery should abide by local cultural practices that could be perceived to violate human rights or accept local capabilities (Abild 2010) that could be perceived as inferior by western standards. The analysis of these three levels can be done using institutional logics. This framework says that each institution distinguishes a set of organizing principles, practices, and symbols that act as a frame of reference for how individuals and organizations make sense of things and, consequently, how they make decisions. In other words, action in each of the institutional orders is driven by a dominant logic which is a “set of material practices and symbolic constructions” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 248) that “shape individual preferences and organizational interests as well as the repertoire of behaviors by which they may attain them” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 232). They are also a “complicated, experientially constructed, and thereby contingent set of rules, premiums, and sanctions that men and women in particular contexts create and recreate in such a way that their behavior and accompanying perspective are to some extent regularized and predictable” (Jackall 1988, p. 112). Friedland and Alford also proposed that each logic has a “focus of attention.” In western societies, the focus of attention for the market logic is “accumulation and the commodification of human activity. That of the state is the rationalization and regulation of human activity by legal and bureaucratic hierarchies. That of democracy is participation and the extension of popular control over human activity. That of the family is the community and the motivation of human activity by unconditional loyalty to its members and their reproductive needs. That of religion, or science for that matter, is truth, whether mundane or transcendental, and the symbolic construction of reality within which all human activity takes place” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 248). Institutional logics affects the entire humanitarian arena. They affect its structure as they are used by those within it to determine who is welcomed and who is not. They affect its purpose by influencing decision-makers about the type of assistance that needs to be provided. And it even affects its very essence by forcing humanitarians to question the pertinency of their actions.

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It is important to emphasize the following aspects of Institutional Logics. First, each of these central logics is particular to each order (Thornton et al. 2012) and defines how our cognitive structures behave and how we experience the world in front of us (Thornton et al. 2012). It consequently drives our action (Thornton and Ocasio 2008; Besharov and Smith 2014). Second, all individuals (including humanitarian officials and disaster survivors) “are affected by coexisting multiple logics” (Goodrick and Reay 2011, p. 377). They are consistently faced with pressures to meet professional standards such as delivering aid in a certain way (professional logic), competing with others to raise money to sustain the organization (market logic), working within large bureaucratic structures (corporate logic), and also adhere to strict government regulations (state logic) (Goodrick and Reay 2011). In our social world, we are also “exposed to multiple and contradictory, yet interconnected, institutional arrangements” (Seo and Creed 2002, p. 228). This means that, while we strive to deal with our own symbolic systems, we must also reconcile them with those with whom we interact. In a paper I wrote in 2020, for instance, I discuss the problems for the Mexican Early Warning Systems generated by the difficulties in reconciling the different ways the government and the non-profit that owns the accelerometers perceive the ideal political structure and business model. In institutional terms, even a simple one-time interaction or a lengthy relationship with other people can be understood as an exchange. In this iteration, both individuals try to influence and move institutional boundaries by enforcing their own symbolic constructions. This is not done consciously. It refers to the idea that in all interactions, our mind makes sense of what is being communicated while determining what the others mean to us. In other words, symbolic constructions are used to evaluate and make sense of content, the circumstances, the context, our feelings, the reason for interacting, and the subjects. We draw from symbols to evaluate the tone of the voice of the other, to assess motivations and interests, and ultimately, to figure out how to continue that interaction. Let us think of two humanitarian workers discussing the role of family members during relief aid distribution. While dealing with this issue, both individuals will reconcile their personal interpretations with whatever policies, doctrines, or regulations exist within their organization. If both individuals work for different organizations, they must also reconcile the pressures within higher-level structures in the humanitarian space and strive to impose their own boundaries. Such is the case of the Cluster System, a mechanism developed to enhance coordination among organizations. As if this was not enough, the cognitive constructions that each of us uses to comply with our demands often contradict those of the other (Otegui 2020). This is especially so when both individuals are very different from one another, such as when they come from different parts of the world, where the focus of attention of each institutional logic is different. The logic of the family, for example, is not universal. You have the nuclear family, which is primarily present in the western world, and the extended family, which is found somewhere else. But these are mere classifications, intellectual constructs, if you will. In real life, each of these

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classifications is understood and materialized in different ways around the globe. The meaning of the symbols that define the extended family in Peru is probably different from that used to define the extended family in Ghana. Let us suppose that one of them comes from a society characterized by large rural families, while her counterpart comes from a developed urban area characterized by nuclear families. The symbolic constructions, the cognitive boundaries that allow them to assign meaning to the concept of “family member,” will be different for the two. Sometimes the opposing postures eventually converge and come to a resolution, but that is not always the case.

4.3.4 Logics in Tension The symbolic constructions we use to resolve demands are not always aligned and exercise tremendous pressure at the cognitive level. What is more, they are frequently in tension and even contradict one another (Friedland and Alford 1991; Otegui 2019; Pache and Santos 2010; Goodrick and Reay 2011), most especially in times of uncertainty and stress, such as right after a disaster, when such contradiction is even more challenging to resolve. However, we draw from these many symbolic constructions to “creatively reconstruct the social arrangements” (Benson 1977, p. 5). In other words, even though institutions and their logics are relatively stable (Barbour and Manly 2016) and the means and ends available to individuals are constrained, actors are partially autonomous (Seo and Creed 2002), which allows them to exercise agency and generate a social change. When humanitarians can finally resolve these contradictions, they are driven by their self-assigned legitimacy (Barbour and Manly 2016). This means that their own set of logics essentially drives their decisions. The agency of their logics has the power to affect post-­disaster deployments. Let me provide some practical examples. They will show how the presence of many logics in tension affects daily humanitarian decisions, including those that can affect the number, the purpose, and the final destinations of those who converge, but they will also allow you understand other points of view on current dilemmas. Well-­ established humanitarian organizations often suggest that the participation of smaller and less qualified organizations in humanitarian operations should be limited (Older 2019; U.N. 2005). This posture affects the size and diversity of those deployed into the field. One of the main reasons behind their argument is the difficulty of coordinating efforts during humanitarian operations (Nielsen et al. 2010). Institutional logics could help us explore and present alternative arguments, such as that humanitarian officials try to avoid sharing the space with more competitors in an already oversaturated market at a subconscious level. To be “deployable” in a humanitarian mission, an individual’s expertise level is generally essential. To be considered qualified, humanitarian workers must take a series of courses and have certifications that are homogeneous across humanitarian organizations (Ramalingam 2013). It could be argued, however, that such

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requirements are the outcome of an institutional process that conceives standardized knowledge to be a more natural mechanism to develop and lead a homogeneous team, as opposed to having a hugely disparate group in terms of their values, norms, and principles. Disaster scholars have found that not paying attention to the housing styles provided to disaster survivors create jealousy among community members (Older 2019). Decisions about which type of shelter to offer are probably made with the best intentions, but they reflect inaccurate interpretations of what matters to the community. While those providing shelter might assume that any roof is good enough for a disaster survivor, they fail to recognize that disaster survivors are still community members. Sentiments under normal conditions, such as jealousy, envy, and pride, also exist after a disaster. Low-priority items are items such as clothes that, from the point of view of humanitarian organizations, are not essential to the purpose of humanitarian intervention. International humanitarian practitioners, most generally from the developed world, agree that these items create logistical problems for relief operations (Paul 2019; Destro and Holguín-Veras 2011). They end up being discarded. Institutional logics could help us challenge this posture by using different vantage points and trying to understand the value assigned to these donations by disaster survivors and donors. This discussion is also relevant for understanding problems in inter-­organizational coordination. Under the framework of the Cluster System mentioned previously, for instance, representatives from a government agency, a church, a humanitarian organization, and a private company regularly meet to discuss the distribution of relief aid or develop a plan to facilitate access to education of affected children. A critical element of the agendas of these meetings is the security and likelihood of accomplishing the project without risking the well-being of the humanitarian workers. In this scenario, even with the same information, the different representatives will find it difficult to agree on the meaning of the minimum levels of security and what the information they have, means to the process. The government representative might be forced to follow the indications of his government concerning access to a particular location. The church’s representative might be inclined to propose that regardless of their information, it is imperative not to judge the local circumstances and to trust in the Lord’s plan. Similarly, the private company might be more interested in exploring their insurance coverage, and the secular humanitarian worker might need to distribute the aid per the organization’s primary objective. The contradictions and the tension between the logics they use to make sense of that security level are not exclusively based on the pieces of information they have in front of them. The possibility of agreeing will be influenced by what each other feels about the other. The arguments presented by the humanitarian worker, for instance, will not be assessed in the same way if that individual is perceived as foreign and uninformed of the local context or if it is someone born and raised there.

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Box: Core Ideas – Deciphering the Cognitive Processes of Humanitarian Actors There is a need to understand humanitarian action in a way that departs from the oversimplified shared imagination that it is a direct response to the objective assessment of people. Understanding humanitarian deployments and the convergence they generate requires discerning the cognitive processes in the minds of those that occupy the humanitarian space, the mental space that bounds the notions of the life of both humanitarians and disaster victims. Institutional Logics is a powerful theoretical framework that allows us to do that. According to it, “institutions are supra-organizational patterns of human activity […] symbolic systems, ways of ordering reality” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 243). They help us understand “how individuals and organizational actors are influenced by their situation in multiple social locations in an interinstitutional system” (Thornton et al. 2012, p. 2). Each institution is driven by a dominant logic which is a “set of material practices and symbolic constructions” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p.  248) that “shape individual preferences and organizational interests as well as the repertoire of behaviors by which they may attain them” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 232)

4.4 A Symbolic Space of Action Even though it is quite obvious today, it was not until recently that taking care of our planet Earth became “a thing.” In institutional terms, until not so long ago, the environment as an institution, was not a priority. This translates in that the “availability of institutions” depends on the context and the time. And I noticed this while pursuing my Ph.D. When I started studying institutional theory, the institutions proposed by Friedland and Alford did not seem to be enough. I started paying attention to bits and pieces of data that suggested that there were many other “ideas” out there that could be considered institutions. I eventually felt compelled to create my own list, which I still have saved on my hard drive for future research. The list has terms such as war, environment, gender, corruption, and even hate and love. Allow me to discuss two of them. For someone from a highly peaceful country or a region that has never been involved practically or politically in a war, the idea of combat is probably much less constant in their way of thinking and processing information. For another person who has lived their entire life in a conflict zone, every aspect of life, whether it is feeding a child, or something more trivial such as fixing the back shed, is thought of in terms of war; its consequences, its rationale. This is particularly important in the face of the Ukrainian people, who have already endured the Russian invasion for many months.

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A similar thing happens with corruption. The idea of corruption is so ingrained in my daily thought process that it bounds my interpretation to the extent that, at least in my mind, it is an institution in its own right. It doesn’t matter what I think about; I draw from symbols that most certainly come from my youth in Argentina and the nearly half a hundred countries from the developing world that I visited in my life, many of which suffer from high levels of corruption. All these symbols are associated with corruption and influence and bound my interpretation. This is to say that sometimes, certain aspects of social life become the norm, the lens through which we understand the context around us. The whole reality becomes tainted with new symbols, which are constantly combined with the symbols of other institutions. When this happens, we go to church and think twice before offering our tithe; we go back home and listen to the daily story of our spouses who were, at some point during the day, forced to bribe somebody in the electrical company to re-connect and put the electricity back on. The police stop us after breaking a traffic regulation, and the fear of not getting to work on time disappears as we are confident that we will be able to pay our way out of it. Following this line of thought, what matters is that some ideas influence our decisions, aspects of life, and ways of understanding circumstances. In the case of a post-disaster context, mostly determined by the interaction of people that converge from all over the world, one such idea is relations. This was the center of attention of my doctoral research. All the leaders I interviewed while working on my dissertation referred to this idea. Still, as I progressed with my research, I noticed that the theory of Institutional Logics continued to leave large bulks of data unconnected. It seemed to lack explanatory power. Human behavior is a series of much richer interactions, with much more nuance than could be explained by a few institutions and their dominant logics. I searched for an explanation that comported with the data and made sense in light of what the data presented. By means of pushing the theoretical boundaries of institutional theory, I explored the likelihood that relations were an institution in their own right. The results were quite extraordinary and will be published shortly after this book is sent into production. If you are interested in reading that article, it will be titled “The Humanitarian Logic.” The research presented data that corroborates that “relations” are an institution in their own right with its dominant logic, which I have called “relational logic.” It pointed out that when a humanitarian decision-maker alludes to a specific aspect of their work, they also draw conclusions about others in that space. So symbolic constructions are not used exclusively to process concrete and tangible information; they are also a reference point to make sense of those around them and how they relate. The discovery of this new logic has intrinsic theoretical merit, especially for institutional logics. Without this logic, the theory does not fully explain the impact of the cognitive connections that people create with others. In other words, the theory did not clarify if, how, and to what extent decisions are driven by how we make sense of those around us. This means that without considering this new logic, the application of the remaining logics would be the same, regardless of who else is involved.

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This finding conceals important implications for post-disaster interventions. Humanitarians make strategic and operational decisions while making circumstantial determinations about the relationship with others, such as other humanitarian workers, victims, survivors, and private companies. This means that the same information is assessed differently, depending on who else is involved in that cognitive process. Another way of understanding this phenomenon is that there is a symbolic convergence, through which all members find a point of reference within the humanitarian space. The research also found that this logic has multiple instantiations and that each instantiation is understood differently by different individuals. One of the variations was called the “humanitarian logic” and is the logic that drives interpretation when the relationship involves people that are suffering and in need of prompt assistance. But other instantiations can be grouped and named “non-humanitarian” logic. This helps emphasize that humanitarians relate to others in a way that is different from how they relate to those in need. Within the humanitarian space, one might be tempted to assume that all those within it are driven by the same type of relational logic, but this is not the case. Even though they might all be deeply concerned and interested in providing the best support to those in need, they are all highly affected by who else is involved. This has significant repercussions on understanding how humanitarian executives make decisions. It could spark new conversations about how pre-design, standardized, out-of-the-box operational procedures will succeed or fail. It would suggest that such procedures cannot be external to the relationships between those that have an obligation to implement them. These findings are paramount because they uncover an area of research that can respond to many current and old dilemmas within the humanitarian sector. For many years, humanitarian scholars have tried to understand how humanitarian workers and the larger structures in which they operate relate to the populations they serve. This challenge lies at the heart of many other current dialogues, such as minimizing the negative impact of colonial thinking residues and improving localization practices. This has been an important area of tension and disappointment, and no theory that captures the sources of the disconnection has been developed yet. Further study on the role of the relational logic in the humanitarian sphere can change that. Humanitarian action is definitely mutating into something different that encapsulates a very appealing idea of humanitarians and local stakeholders sharing the humanitarian space (Otegui 2021). But it also brings forward the idea that both collectives are now responsible for the people’s lives. The transition into this new paradigm brought with it the need to redefine the rules of engagement. The new rules are curiously built over a new symbolic structure in which the relational logic is saliently dominant. Let’s not forget that, in institutional terms, the humanitarian space is not physical. It is a construct defined and determined by the institution of relations’ material practices and symbolic constructions. It represents the specific variation of the relational logic of western humanitarians. As such, the inclusion of local stakeholders into the humanitarian space speaks of the evolution of humanitarians’ relationship with local

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stakeholders. In consequence, the changes in the relationship between the two are not objective or universal. It is the representation of whatever western humanitarians say it represents. Do consider that, even if the humanitarian space is the cognitive representation of the institution of relations for western humanitarians, it is not homogeneous. It is formed by a multitude of perceptions, ideals, and beliefs. This space is not universal. On the contrary, it exists as a very particular shared cognitive system. On a superficial level, the activation of these new systems appears to misguide humanitarian workers. It sends strong signals to operate in a certain way and behave in a manner commonly defined by the humanitarian space itself. The customs and habits of this space dictate, for instance, the urgent need to be on the ground as soon as possible. For others, it translates into the need to deploy reconnaissance teams to collect additional information and portray the needs assessment that will later guide relief efforts. Ironically, these signals are interfered with by the demands described earlier in the book. Humanitarians, however, seem unaware of these interferences’ effects. They move forward almost blinded by the humanitarian imperative, and they even fail to acknowledge the possibility that what they are pursuing is a biased interpretation of what they believe to be the interpretation of the other. Box: Core Ideas – The Relational Logic and Its Instantiations My research corroborates that “relations” are an institution in their own right with their dominant logic, which I have called “relational logic.” The humanitarian logic is one of its many instantiations. It also confirms that humanitarians make strategic and operational decisions while making circumstantial determinations about the relationship with others, such as other humanitarian workers, victims, survivors, and private companies.

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Paul, Bimal Kanti. 2019. Disaster relief aid: Changes and challenges. http://search.ebscohost.com/ login.aspx?direct=true&scope=site&db=nlebk&db=nlabk&AN=1806754 Peoples, James G., and Garrick Alan Bailey. 1991. Humanity: An introduction to cultural anthropology. St. Paul: West Pub. Co. Portsea, L.J. 1992. Disaster relief or relief disaster? A challenge to the international community*. Disasters 16 (1): 1–8. Ramalingam, Ben. 2013. Aid on the edge of chaos: Rethinking international cooperation in a complex world. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Scott, W.  Richard. 2014. Institutions and organizations: Ideas, interests, and identities. Los Angeles: SAGE. Seo, Myeong-Gu, and W.E. Douglas Creed. 2002. Institutional contradictions, praxis, and institutional change: A dialectical perspective. The Academy of Management Review 27 (2): 222–247. Stern, Eric K., and Gregory Saathoff. 2012. Crisis leadership and military community resilience. Journal of Homeland Security and Emergency Management 9 (2). https://doi. org/10.1515/1547-­7355.1957. Sumner, William Graham, and Albert Galloway Keller. 1906. Folkways: A study of the sociological importance of usages, manners, customs, mores, and morals. New York: New American Library. Telford, John, and John Cosgrave. 2007. The international humanitarian system and the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunamis. Disasters 31 (1): 1–28. Thornton, Patricia H., and William Ocasio. 2008. Institutional logics. In The SAGE handbook of organizational institutionalism, ed. Royston Greenwood. Los Angeles [etc.]: SAGE. Thornton, Patricia H., William Ocasio, and Michael Lounsbury. 2012. The institutional logics perspective: A new approach to culture, structure, and process. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tierney, K.J., and J. Trainor. 2004. Networks and resilience in the World Trade Center disaster. In Research progress and accomplishments 2003–2004, 157–172. Buffalo: State University of New York at Buffalo, Multidisciplinary Center for Earthquake Engineering Research. United Nations. 2005. Regional workshop on lessons learned and best practices in the response to the Indian Ocean tsunami: Report and summary of Main conclusion, Medan, Indonesia. Veblen, Thorstein. 1909. The Limitations of Marginal Utility. Journal of Political Economy 17 (9): 620–636. Waller, Richard, and Kathy Homewood. 1997. Elders and experts: Contesting veterinary knowledge in a pastoral community. In Western medicine as contested knowledge, ed. Andrew Cunningham and Bridie Andrews, 69–93. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Weber, Max, and Edward Shils. 1949. Max Weber on the methodology of the social sciences. Glencoe: Free Press. Weick, Karl E. 1993. The collapse of sensemaking in organizations: The Mann Gulch disaster. Administrative Science Quarterly 38 (4): 628.

Chapter 5

The Symbolic Response to Disasters

5.1 Back in East Timor When I left East Timor, I was not happy. I was proud of myself because I did my best to fulfill my responsibilities and because I cared. I was indeed immature, poorly qualified, and inexperienced, but deep inside me, I knew that to do my work, I had to see it through their eyes. After a few weeks of being there, once the anxiety of the moment and the overwhelming feeling of the adventure were over, I could finally see the complete picture. Until then, I was just another ex-pat, another white boy, more concerned about being liked and having a good time. And so, I spent most of my days meeting new people, laughing with them, and going out for a few beers. We used to visit the state’s capital weekly for our staff meetings. All electoral officers would come down from wherever they were for a couple of days to share, learn from each other, and receive instructions. I remember vividly that in one of our meetings, the first item on the agenda was using vehicles. Someone could have mentioned something about this during our orientation meetings, but honestly, I do not remember that. They probably did, but I have no recollection. With a bit of an angry face, our coordinator emphasized that we were not allowed to carry local citizens in our United Nations cars. There were quite a few different reasons for this. Insurance was one of them. The mission leaders were concerned that if we had an accident and someone inside the car was hurt, the insurance would not cover them. It appears that only UN employees were covered. They also mentioned something about not taking sides. For some strange reason, they believed that if we helped someone, others within the community might feel we were biased. This could create problems and animosities between the Timorese, the United Nations, and ultimately between us. In their eyes, they were trying to protect us. In my eyes, instead, it was strange to hear someone telling me that the United Nations didn’t want people to think we were helping when the sole purpose of me going there was to help.

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But the idea of not taking sides made a bit of sense. I remember living the meeting without much concern. I had just been given an order, and that was that. The following morning, I got into my truck and started driving back. We all had a local counterpart. They were local political leaders (primarily young) who spoke a little English and helped us move around the area and connect. My Timorese counterpart Delfin had not attended the meeting. On this particular day, I picked him up halfway between the UN compound and the town where we lived. We started going up the mountains as we had before, and in the middle of the narrow dirt road, surrounded by the jungle, we spotted a few older people. I could see from a distance they were carrying huge packages. When we came closer, I noticed they had collected food from their harvests. Delfin asked me to stop, and so I did. In less than 5 s, I saw not only them but a whole group of farmers. Some were old, some were young, and some even carried their babies jumped on the back of the track (see Figs. 5.1 and 5.2). I opened my eyes widely in surprise and with a bit of fear. Delfin looked at me, and all he said was “my aunt,” to which I responded, “oh, ok,” and I drove away. Because Delfin had not been in the meeting that morning, I realized he might not know about this policy. I drove up the mountain for many miles, figuring out if I should say something. I did not want to lose my job or have a conflict with my boss, but carrying these older people and helping them out, despite being Delfin’s relatives, seemed the right thing to do. I thought I would need to bring this up at some point. Rules were rules, and I trusted that they were in place for good reasons. But, of course, it did not take much to realize how stupid my reasoning was. I was there

Fig. 5.1  Heading up the mountain in the U.N. Truck 1 (East Timor)

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Fig. 5.2  Heading up the mountain in the U.N. Truck 2 (East Timor)

alone, with no support system, living on my own, and at the end of the day, I was there to help. Being of assistance to the local community was far more important than following a silly regulation. I spent the next few days asking others what they felt about this policy. I talked to the platoon commander in charge of the area’s security, to some sporadic visitors that drove through, and I even scheduled meetings with other ex-pats I had already met. It came to my attention that there was an incredible consensus among different organizations about not carrying the locals. They all seemed to have agreed on the policy. But to my surprise, all the people I spoke with shared my feelings. They acknowledged that the rule existed. There was, however, diversity in their understanding of the underlying reason. There was also diversity in how they felt about the policy. Some agreed with the reasons but chose to disregard the policy, while others did not agree with the underlying reasons but chose to follow the rule. It is still unclear to me what was the ultimate factor that convinced them to behave in one way or another, but what is clear is that the pressures of the circumstances matter, as well as their points of view and general ways of seeing the world. The point of this story is that the humanitarian sector is not cohesive or unified. From a distance, you might get a different impression. But when you get closer, you will notice that it is a messy, unorganized, chaotic self-propelled machinery, a perception that is not unfamiliar to most humanitarians. A portion of humanitarian leaders will, of course, oppose my interpretation openly. And rightfully so. Remember that my story about East Timor happened 20 years ago, in 2001. The humanitarian sector has evolved tremendously since then. It has grown and learned,

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and numerous organizations, including academia, have spent countless resources researching and understanding how to improve such critical human activity. But the reality is that most of those within this group of humanitarian leaders and scholars are only aware of such evolution within the extremely narrow space to which they belong and appear to be incapable (or unwilling) of seeing what is happening beyond the walls of their area of action. Box: Disaster Event – East Timor In the 1500s, European nations were scouring the globe for untapped resources. The Portuguese and the Dutch laid claims to the island of Timor and divided it in half, with Portugal controlling the east and the Dutch controlling the west. Essentially, Portugal would profit from the export of Sandalwood, harvesting it until near extinction. Sandalwood and coffee would remain the dominant cash crop for decades. By 1974, a shift in politics in Portugal had begun to favor decolonization, and in November 1975, political group Fretilin declared the territory’s independence. This was short-lived, however, and only nine days later, Indonesia invaded and took control of East Timor under the guise that the political party would become a hub for communism in the area. Fighting between Indonesian forces and East Timor citizens lasted over 20 years and resulted in over 200,000 deaths, approximately 1/6th of the population, from murder, disease, and starvation. Due to the island’s remote nature, there was little coverage of the conflict. On November 12th, 1991, locals gathered to pay respect to an independence activist at the Santa Cruz Cemetery. They were massacred by the Indonesian Army, resulting in more than 200 deaths. The coverage spread worldwide, finally calling attention to East Timor. Atrocities continued until 1998, when political turmoil in Indonesia resulted in the resignation of president Suharto after 30 years in power. The following year, the Timorese people voted for independence in an UN-sponsored referendum. References: Guardian Australia. (August 29th, 2019). East Timor Independence: A Short History of a Long and Brutal Struggle. Downloaded on August 1st, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2IvKwDJVjk A few very large, very select, and elitist conglomerates of global organizations have led the humanitarian movement for decades. Even today, they continue to be at the center stage of humanitarian action. They know each other; they connect. They are also intelligent and powerful and tend to act as a concerted front. They organize conferences, they have their publications, and the media extensively consult them. They have annual budgets of billions of dollars, and their employees have tremendous global experience and are well trained in top academic programs. They have grown so vastly, with their presence in so many places, that they understandably

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believe that what they do, is all that is done and should be done within the so-called humanitarian space. But that is only an illusion. They are enormous as they are loud, and it is easy for them to define the scope and nature of what needs to be done among themselves and then sell this illusion to the untrained eye of the general public that their actions have been consensually determined with the people they serve. My experience in East Timor has all the elements to be a perfect example. On the one hand, the “service providers” are nothing more than the United Nations, and the aid recipients are communities from one of the least developed countries. The contrast between the two couldn’t be more pronounced. And if you think about it, the specific story of the car is also ideal. It is one of those elements of a humanitarian mission that is trivial enough to not receive the necessary attention. But the story is not so much about cars as it is about hundreds of other aspects that are regularly left unattended and corrode the efficiency of the intervention and harm the local people. Remember that disasters are devastating extreme processes, and their negative consequences can last from a few days to months and even years. And the story shows how the response to these events, unfortunately, can also be intense. In some circumstances, primarily when the impacted area extends across borders (such as in East Timor), providing aid to the victims can involve large volumes of people and equipment. Governments, private companies, insurance companies, humanitarian organizations, religious entities, the media, technical responders, and isolated individuals are just a few of the hundreds of thousands of actors that rush to travel and even sometimes cross the borders of sovereign countries and converge in a place that a hazard has impacted. In response to the many challenges generated by this multitude of “convergers,” the sector has advocated for standardized frameworks (i.e., UN personnel cannot carry local people in their cars). The goal is to avoid problems, provide a seamless experience to the people, and make it easy for everybody to plugin more rapidly and efficiently. Such is the case with strict rules followed by all, regardless of the circumstances, even if, by doing so, you put one of your employees in an awkward place by denying them the possibility of helping the community members who happen to be related to their local partner. This is an elegant approach to resolving what appears to be considered a management challenge. But it is certainly not appropriate, for the distinctive attribute that makes international responses so complex, lies way beneath management structures and strategies, at a concealed level that many barely know exists; the level of symbols and interpretation. The case I am presenting concerns the conflicting signals you send to people. It is about telling a local partner that they are indeed members of the entire operation, but at the same time, you deny them basic permissions. How do you think you would feel if this happened to you? Imagine what that could mean to the locals. Imagine the honor of being hired by the United Nations to help rebuild your country. Imagine the pride they must have felt. Imagine how they felt when they were not given permission to drive or even help their old grandparents walk up the mountain with the food they harvested in the field. Imagine their shame.

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In the international arena, standardized approaches do not account for the increasing number of culturally and institutionally diverse actors who interpret the surrounding context differently (Otegui 2019). Individuals from different cultures try to work together in conflicting and uncertain environments and analyze reality through different lenses. The images these lenses produce are not only different but often even irreconcilable. These lenses are the unique symbolic constructions that shape individual preferences and define the available strategies to attain them. The symbolic structures of someone that attempts to help and someone in need of relief aid are different. I referred to this process in a previous section when I presented the views of Lewis Mumford (1967). Mumford was an American historian who describes how humans reconcile objective reality with their subjective experience of that reality. In his view, a process that he calls materialization takes place inside each human being. He says this process is a series of sequential stages that start in a neurological reaction and continue until an idea is produced. This is his way of explaining how human beings make sense of their surrounding reality. Following his argument, what is valuable for each society is the outcome of the aggregation of the individual processes of materialization of all members of that society. Both collectives, humanitarian workers on one side and local stakeholders on the other, are affected by the materialization process in the same way. In institutional terms, they process the reality in front of them by applying a series of unique logics. And they also do so when a disaster hits. The difference is that when a phenomenon of disproportionate destructive power manifests, the process of materialization becomes tainted, full of flaws, and even dysfunctional. Not being able to drive IS NOT a big deal. Not being “allowed” to drive IS a big deal. Being denied permission to drive and not help your old grandparents after enduring the loss of family members to savages with machetes IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Being told that you “are one of us” and put you in that horrible place where you have to confront your family and tell them that you “are not really one of them” while you feel that you are looked down and that you are considered less than everybody else, IT IS A HUGE DEAL. We must consider that both groups’ post-disaster (institutional) systems are under the pressure of irrepressible forces that affect how they prioritize institutional logics. Humanitarians, on the one hand, strive to accommodate their systems in a familiar and stable way, always to complete the mission of helping others. Differently, local survivors try to accommodate theirs according to concerns about what they have accomplished in life. This chapter describes these forces in detail and explains how this affects the relationship between their institutional systems when they collide after a disaster. In other words, this chapter aims to provide an alternative approach to understanding the true impact of international humanitarian action by explaining how societies confront their post-disaster reality. Instead of paying attention to the macro effects of disasters on the built environment, the economy, or the infrastructure, it focuses on the impact of the Global Convergence in the symbolic structure of the native citizens.

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Box: Core Ideas – Selling an Illusion Humanitarian organizations are enormous as they are loud, and it is easy for them to define the scope and nature of what needs to be done among themselves and then sell the illusion that their actions have been consensually determined by the people they serve. The distinctive attribute that makes international responses so complex, lies beneath management structures and strategies, at a concealed level that many barely know exists; the level of symbols and interpretation

5.2 Incompatible Symbolic Responses 5.2.1 Institutional Maneuvering Space In the face of a thriving global interconnectedness, crises and disasters occurring on one side of the globe affect almost instantaneously the interests of people and organizations on the other. Globalization has made our world smaller, and an increasing number of humanitarian organizations, sometimes with little or no expertise, make almost unilateral decisions to travel vast distances to assist in a way they consider fit. Countless independent international agencies converge with imperfect information, a wide diversity of interests and agendas, and many times even conflicting ideas and approaches. When humanitarians and first responders are notified of the occurrence of a disaster in which their involvement is imminent and inevitable, something unique happens. They become absorbed, consumed, or transformed into their new reality. This is the birth of a humanitarian institutional system. It is a beautiful, dangerous phenomenon that pushes them to (over) react on a normative and resolutive definition that their involvement is necessary. Driven by this impetus to do something for the affected society, they quit everything they do, leave their families behind, their safety net, their projects, and travel around the world. Their commitment to helping, however, does not automatically translate into doing something of value. The humanitarian machine acts on its interpretations which are generally flawed and inaccurate. Using Vaux’s words: “The degree and nature of concern that I feel for a person in need reflect my personality and mood. In analyzing the context in which that person lives, I have to choose from innumerable possibilities, and I may choose those which reflect my prejudices rather than the person’s interests. I remain in my world – he or she in his or her own” (Vaux 2001, p.  202). Vaux’s “prejudices,” I believe, represent what I call “institutional deviations.” These are cognitive and symbolic gaps between what someone considers to be the interpretation of another individual and the proper interpretation of that person.

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These institutional deviations are subconsciously combined with the demands of the humanitarian arena. The final product is highly combustible. Individuals in such precarious cognitive spaces are left with one single alternative. Do the best they can with the little that they have. To some extent, humanitarian organizations know this. Their response, however, is inappropriate because they tend to understand the problem in terms of broken systems. The solution is consequently confined to a recruitment process aimed at finding applicants with expertise and an extraordinary ability to navigate challenging environments. While doing my doctoral research, quite a few interviewees used fascinating terms to refer to these abilities. One called them “Land Rovers,” and another said, “People that can build a system where there are no systems.” Yet another one said, “we are looking for people that can navigate environments with no bridges or rules.” At that time, when I re-read the transcripts, I noticed that they were primarily referring to the local environments where humanitarians are expected to operate. But now I know that they meant so much more than that. They were also referring to the fact that all humanitarians must be capable of making decisions with poor information. The less and more confusing the organizational and societal boundaries for decision-making, the more individuals are pushed to base their decisions on their subjective interpretation of reality. And this is precisely what they do. When deployed, humanitarians filter available data according to previous experiences, which they generally acquired in other disaster contexts. Needless to say, those contexts were entirely different from one another, except that they were hit by a disaster. In their minds, for the purpose of a response in the developing world, an earthquake in Nepal, a civil conflict in South Sudan, or a heat wave in Brazil are similar events. At the end of the day, a disruption is a disruption, and there isn’t really a place to analyze how they are different. To deal with the cognitive vacuum generated by new and uncertain contexts, their minds subconsciously extract earlier experiences from the depths of their brain. They then use available data and past experiences to develop a mental image that allows them to have a friendly path to follow. In institutional words, the image represents the expression of a specific inter-institutional system. Without knowing it, individuals draw from previous experiences by employing methods and channels that best fit and comply with pre-existing logics. It would appear that the process that follows the construction of that image is one of self-validation; they produce an image that supports their own decision-making. Humanitarian officials inadvertently use their available maneuvering space to make determinations that best fit their interpretation. Organizational boundaries essentially define this space. Internal policies, procedures, and best practices serve as a funnel for interpretation. At the end of the path, individuals use whatever vacant space to select the choice that coincides with and supports their judgment.

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5.2.2 Symbolic Construction of the Deployment The humanitarian arena is filled with individuals wholly committed to providing relief aid promptly. They care about logistics, nutrition, the well-being of the volunteers, and being on the ground as soon as possible. This is not the only type of humanitarian that exists, though. You also have those fully committed to ensuring the survival and growth of the organizational mission and objectives. They are the ones who care about the “management” side of this story. They care about raising money, showing their flag on TV, and they care about being not only effective but efficient. These are two sub-collectives within the humanitarian architecture driven by opposite institutional logics. Even though they might have divergent interpretations or underlying philosophies about what that means, they are both compelled by a humanitarian purpose. For the first group, it is generally understood as a romantic incursion to “save the lives of the less fortunate,” while for the others is “let’s survive.” The tension between them is frequently present in the form of questions that are very difficult to respond to. What is more important, being familiar with the local culture or having skills? Do we prioritize money, or do we prioritize the people we serve? But even though both groups have a somewhat dichotomic way of understanding their craft, western humanitarians, as a whole, share their views on one crucial thing. The institutional systems of all have a predisposition to judge the impact of disaster events in developing countries as defined mainly by the breakdown of built environments, which are used as the measuring stick to make determinations of how other systems have been affected, with very little attention being paid to how the local population and actors understand that new reality. Humanitarians seem incapable of bringing to a conscious level the extent to which their cognitive structure is influenced by many institutional logics. This includes not only the decision to intervene in a catastrophe but also the type of intervention and type of personnel that will be deployed By definition, institutional logics funnels interpretation and can lead individuals through different cognitive paths. This is primarily in the case of humanitarians and disaster survivors. The logics in tension and contradiction generate a mental uncertainty that creates discomfort and makes it difficult for the leadership to make decisions about post-disaster operations. Even with an increased perception of the importance of leading interventions that are fully aligned with “the needs of the people” and sensitive to the local customs and culture, humanitarians are also increasingly perceptive to the diametrically different interpretations between them and the recipients of their assistance. Unlike what happened in the past, humanitarian organizations increasingly embrace this symbolic confusion, which they recognize as the outcome of an inevitably flawed system. In response, they embrace diversity, an idea that has already become a guiding principle in their daily lives. They strive to generate structures and policies that are progressively more permeable to different nationalities,

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cultures, religious beliefs, sexual orientations, and other well-known and established demographic and sociological categories. In reality, however, they unknowingly design practices that are commonly sustained in the fortitude of command structures. This is so because humanitarians have proven not to be infallible to the convenience of leading individuals similar to themselves. The belief that the elements of the post-disaster humanitarian machinery must be capable of following commands with resolve limits significantly the scope of profiles desired for recruitment. This idealization affects not only the deployments but the entire structure of a mission. People on the ground should be able to respond to instructions on time the same way that those at headquarters do. But of all the elements of a mission, there are two that deserve considerable additional attention. They are related to one another and provide the nutrients that will feed the institutional system of those involved. These elements are an aggregation of people, policies, perceptions, resources, and circumstances that conclude with the confluence of information used to produce deployment decisions. The mission’s success has been usually seen to be contingent on the outcome of the two elements, and a particular chronology is attached to them. The two moments are used to polish the representation that humanitarians have about the context and circumstances of the disaster and especially of the place that has been affected. This representation is what will inform the selection of specific symbols that will, in turn, inform decision-making. The first moment is when humanitarians learn of the occurrence of a disaster. This moment is uniquely significant because the information received is often shattered, inconsistent, contradictory, little, and emanating from doubtful sources. Also, because it is regularly combined with pre-existent mental images. The second moment is generated by information from more reliable sources, mostly from assessment teams that travel to the location. The correlation that is usually found between the two is purely organizational. The precariousness of the available information during the first moment needs to be supplemented, and the alternative of choice is usually the deployment of assessment teams. But there is an abstruse causality between both moments that habitually goes unnoticed. The representations that exist in the first moment will determine the profile of the individuals that will be deployed to perform field assessments. These profiles will, in turn, determine the specific symbols used to unravel the reality in the field. In plain English, the field assessment will be a biased by-product of the particular symbols used to understand and process the information available during the first moment. From the point of view of Institutional Logics, humanitarian deployments are the outcome of a planned strategic activity, as much as they are the byproduct of a mental process that is highly influenced by multiple symbolic constructions. Initial assessments are essentially a response to the need to collect additional information. But what information will be needed and how this information will be collected depends largely on the mental scenarios that have been previously produced. This means that any thoughtful, creative, and strategic organizational process will involve individuals exchanging their imagery in a negotiated environment. When team

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members get together to work on these assessments, the exchange process suffers from friction between the institutional logics of the many individuals involved. Even activities such as field assessments meant to inform future deployments are also highly affected by the institutional system of the decision-makers. Institutional logics have already had a hefty influence when someone steps into a plane. The composition of the assessment team, their final destination, how they will collect the data, and so on are all aspects determined by the decision maker’s specific logics, and they will affect the performance of the assessment team. The logic of the decision-­maker applied to the assessment team will considerably impact how the team members develop a cognitive framework to perform their duties. Because of this, the original logic used to put together the assessment team will rebound and indirectly affect the final deployments. This is to say that the efficiency of field assessments could be misleading. They are generally considered unbiased instruments to collect objective, verifiable data, but institutional logic points out that they could be designed to validate pre-conceptions.

5.2.3 The Effects of Symbolic Attraction To resolve the dilemmas generated by this more diverse and complex ecosystem, humanitarian practitioners and scholars alike have increasingly called for a more homogeneous and standardized response. This strategy required allocating resources to produce better coordination mechanisms. The Sphere project, developed by a consortium of non-governmental organizations in 1997, and the Cluster System initiated in 2005 by the United Nations are two such mechanisms (Older 2019). But resolving humanitarian action problems requires much more than this. Human beings live in an environment bounded by group definitions, and the need to corroborate perceptions, seek advice, and associate with others, is a reasonable strategy to minimize risk. The humanitarian ecosystem is no different, where post-­ disaster worries, tensions, and anxieties, are confronted by appealing to other humanitarians. Institutional orders and their dominant driving logic are a way to order reality. They provide the principles that regulate and enable consistent everyday interactions in taken-for-granted routines. Coming together, spending time together, working together, and validating future action plans strengthens the symbolic connection. When a disaster occurs, the uncertainty, stress, and confusion extensively discussed in the previous chapters increase the need and desire of humanitarians to conceive whatever future action that might be needed, a shared endeavor. In institutional logics terms, the “symbolic attraction” between peers maintains the cohesiveness of a collectivity. It is like a mantle that keeps humanitarians together, making them feel comfortable. And while there is nothing intrinsically wrong with this, it can also work to the detriment of their relationship with the local communities. This is significant right after a disaster because, in the case of

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humanitarian peers, a disaster increases the symbolic attraction and strengthens their connection. The magnetism of symbols has enormous implications. It creates a solid barrier between humanitarian agencies and local stakeholders. Most uniquely, the chosen symbols carry the entire weight of one’s own interpretation of what “the other” needs and wants. Coordination efforts are based on the trust and confidence that humanitarians worldwide have in the “power of humanitarianism.” And the outcome is visible and palpable. Humanitarians nowadays reach out to others for multiple purposes, such as sharing information, experiences, best practices, and suggestions for corroborating data and even defining joint intervention strategies. The absolute abnegation of humanitarian workers to help disaster victims is paired with their commitment to help each other and protect each other. They are proud to recognize that their power does not reside in the strength of their members but in their (close) collectivity. This vision is saliently present in their imagery as a combination of values and principles that manifest in developing a feeling of belonging to the exclusive global social group of “humanitarians.” Even though “we” do stuff for the other, at the very end, it is “we” who do the work; it is “we” who make it happen; “we” go out there, and “we” put our lives on the line; “we” embrace danger, uncertainty, and divorces; “we” miss birthdays, “we” choose to receive a smaller paycheck and “we” are proud and happy to be able to do what we do. The already exceptionally emotional symbolic connection between them is intensified and heightened by this actively promoted and enforced coordination apparatus. Ironically, the demeanor that strengthens the bond between humanitarians also facilitates the distancing from those they are trying to help and prevents organizations from understanding the disassociation between them. There is an ever-increasing unintentional and almost indiscernible separation between the humanitarians on one side and local stakeholders on the other. In institutional words, the gap between their institutional systems makes it harder or even impossible to translate and understand the logics of “the other.” This happens to be a compelling negative aspect of humanitarian practice. The stronger the relationship between humanitarians, the weaker the link between them, disaster survivors, and other local stakeholders. This counter-intuitive phenomenon is so strong that sometimes it hinders the attempts to provide disaster survivors and victims with the space and support they need and deserve to be equal players in decision-making. In other words, even though humanitarians continue to be honestly convinced that they understand and respect the perceptions and ideas of the locals, at a more in-depth, symbolic level, this is not so. The reason is the powerful connection between humanitarians. The more they reach out to each other for suggestions and advice, the stronger the symbolic connection between them and the weaker the connection with local actors. To avoid this from happening, humanitarians would need to bring to a conscious level the idea that they must disobey their natural inclinations to listen and follow other humanitarians and push themselves to develop institutional logics similar to those they are trying to help.

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5.2.4 When Coping Mechanisms Fail The prioritization of logics we use to determine a path to action demands certain continuity of societal order. Similarly, individual agency is, to a large extent, only possible and consequential to the well-being of an institutional system. Pre-disaster institutional structures provide a friendly cognitive space and are critical to making sense of reality, even in the aftermath of a disaster. When a disaster happens, the stability and familiarity of these institutional structures are disrupted, as “institutions can also be destabilized by exogenous shocks, such as wars and financial crisis” (Scott 2014, p. 58). Besides affecting the built infrastructure, the environment, and the economy, disasters also jeopardize an institution’s rules, regulations, and other constitutive elements and the principles of their dominant logics. When the institutional structure is affected, symbolic certainties cease to exist, and society will fail to find a sympathetic environment for individual and organizational behavior. Defining what best is, is a domestic process and lies at the heart of social interaction. When individuals can reasonably interact with others, such as in the absence of a disrupting event, they collaboratively define societal value. The lack of uncertainty and urgency makes it easier for a society to find an adequate coping strategy. In a post-disaster situation, this changes. The likelihood of a structural collapse, combined with a failure of the symbolic structures, significantly changes how people prioritize available logics. Disasters confuse and make it difficult for organizations and for individuals to make decisions in the way that they would typically do. They force them to reassess and reprioritize their driving logics to ensure that they are coherent and compatible with what they consider happening at the intersection of all institutions (the entire societal, institutional structure). In other words, actors reprioritize driving logics according to what they interpret as happening with the rest of the institutional orders and how different actors might be reprioritizing their own logics. Allow me to provide a concrete example. In the absence of a disaster, most corporations are driven by a corporate logic of generating profit. They know that doing so has no implications for the rest of societal life. This is an expected and stable behavior based on the idea that social order pre-exists action, and the consequences of a steady and expected action remain insignificant. In other words, it does not affect the remaining institutional structure. But in the case of a disaster, the company could feel unable and unwilling to engage in a commercial process without first providing some support to the victims. When the system is broken, the nature of a commercial process such as selling food, water, or medical supplies when you have an overwhelming portion of the population suffering changes. And so, instead of continuing to profit from its regular activities, it might decide to focus resources on aiding others. Alternatively, a non-profit that is presumed to be driven by the well-being of the people might choose to prioritize profit (Otegui 2020)

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But other reasons might push the company to re-prioritize its logic. The state is driven by the logic of “rationalization and regulation of human activity by legal and bureaucratic hierarchies” (Friedland and Alford 1991, p. 248). In his role, the government, as a state representative, has, among other responsibilities, the provision of security, which might be unable to perform in the aftermath of a disaster. The collapse of the governmental structure, such as the one seen in Haiti after the earthquake in 2010, will modify the people’s expectations regarding the provision of security. Individuals might eventually conclude that such responsibility no longer falls in the realm of the state “order” (although it might well remain part of its logic), and the provision of security could eventually be re-programed in individual private contracts. The company referred above might have doubts about the extent to which the state can exercise its legitimate regulatory power. Its participation in humanitarian activities will continue as long as the prioritization of logics remains and until the order is re-established. On the other hand, its workforce, which one could assume is mainly driven by a family logic, may temporarily overvalue income generation to provide for their families, thus realizing the need to support the company’s commercial objectives. If this was the case, their interest in the company’s financial survival might conflict with the new corporate-humanitarian logic of helping in the recovery process. This re-prioritization of logics is an essential source of eventual conflict, affecting how stakeholders understand reality and relate to it. The reconstruction of the stable fabric of institutions that makes the materialization process familiar, as it generally is during normalcy, could take months to entire lives. In this precise moment, the materialization process is affected the most when thousands of external forces make their nosy entrance and converge, silently impacting the remaining sources of comfort. Even when those forces converge to distribute assistance, if the aid is provided in a way that is insensitive to local customs, disaster victims also become victims of “unintentional neglect” (McEntire 1997, p. 225). Such a phenomenon also increases internal solidarity, at the same time that it heightens “intolerance for outsiders” (Drabek 1986, p. 179). Of all the consequences brought about by a catastrophe in the symbolic structure, the one to the rules of engagement between people is most important. Veblen summarized it in very simple terms. He said that “not only is the individual’s conduct hedged about and directed by his habitual relations to his fellows in the group, but these relations, being of an institutional character, vary as the institutional scheme varies. The wants and desires, the end and aim, the ways and means, the amplitude and drift of the individual’s conduct are functions of an institutional variable that is of a highly complex and wholly unstable character” (Veblen 1909, p. 629). When a disaster has impacted a community, it loses the mechanisms that allow it to cope efficiently with external forces. All these new characters in the theater of operations do not know each other, nor have they shared the process of materialization, but they still mobilize into someone else’s crisis. When they do so, they bring their own definitions of value, which are culturally and historically defined. The temporary weakened symbolic structure of the affected society is generally worsened by the public scrutiny that pushes authorities to comply with the pressures and demands of these external forces. In these circumstances, impacted societies find themselves helpless at the “will” of the power of foreign forces.

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Box: Core Ideas – The Negative Consequences of Symbolic Attraction “Institutional deviations” are cognitive and symbolic gaps between what someone considers to be the interpretation of another individual and the proper interpretation of that same person. They are subconsciously combined with the demands of the humanitarian arena. The final product is highly combustible. Individuals in such precarious cognitive spaces are left with one single alternative. Do the best they can with the little that they have. Without knowing it, individuals draw from previous experiences by employing methods and channels that best fit and comply with pre-existing logics. In institutional terms, Humanitarian officials inadvertently use their available maneuvering space to make determinations that best fit their interpretation. The “symbolic attraction” between peers is intensified and heightened by this actively promoted and enforced coordination apparatus, which maintains a collectivity’s cohesiveness. It is like a mantle that keeps humanitarians together, making them feel comfortable. However, it can also work to the detriment of their relationship with the local communities. This counter-­ intuitive phenomenon is so strong that sometimes it hinders the attempts to provide disaster survivors and victims with the space and support they need and deserve to be equal players in decision-making.

5.3 The Collision of Systems 5.3.1 Symbolic Disconnections The inter-relationship of pre-existing conditions of systemic vulnerability and the destruction and chaos generated by the disaster offers a complex environment to operate in. The impulsive, sloppy deployments of the humanitarian machinery (Otegui and Yoder-Bontrager 2021) and the many other actors that converge to the impacted country debilitate this environment even more. This machinery is not well oiled. On the contrary, it is explosive, individualistic, and unorganized. It is porous and amorphous. It is even a breeding ground for those not interested in doing good and sometimes even incentivizes the outbreak of illegal or unethical activities. This is known by all humanitarians who have persistently tried to improve coordination mechanisms. This intention evolved into creating an expanded idea of “We,” which considers both humanitarians and disaster victims as one, joined in brotherhood in assisting. But this romantic vision of collaborative partnership conceals something important and even dangerous. Even though it might appear reasonable at the level of strategy and viable at the level of operation, such brotherhood doesn’t exist at the level of symbols (Otegui 2021). The self-reference to a big “WE” from the humanitarian side doesn’t include disaster victims. In symbolic terms, the big “WE” is really a small “we,” and it only consists of the humanitarians.

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The reasons why this happens are many and quite complex. To start with, institutional logics is also used by individuals to make sense of those around them. This means institutional logics is used to simultaneously make sense of information and the relationship with different collectives. When foreign humanitarians and local survivors meet and interact, they have no alternative but to try to understand life from the vantage point of the other. The issue is that the symbolic connection among humanitarians is too strong. It induces the inception of a symbolic barrier that brings them closer to one another but that, at the same time, keeps them distant from the locals. This barrier is almost indistinguishable, but it erodes silently the very nature of locally driven relief efforts. Essentially, the stronger the symbolic connection among humanitarians, the weaker the symbolic connection with “the others.” Secondly, under known and stable contexts, individuals and organizations are expected to comply with the propositions and boundaries of all institutional orders. When a disaster occurs elsewhere and international actors converge, expected action is unclear. In these cases, organizations and individuals are confronted with a dialectic challenge. Once on unknown terrain, they are forced to reconcile the influence of two entirely different institutional systems: the impacted society and their society of origin. The process through which they adequate their senses can be quite lengthy and complex. Still, the urgency required in the aftermath of a disaster, and the poor knowledge of the local institutional system, push them to choose to comply with the boundaries of the institutional system of their own. The third reason is associated with the interest that all organizations have in their own survival, including humanitarian actors. It leads “them to accede to the demands of other actors on which they depend for resources and legitimacy” (DiMaggio 1988). So, amid a disaster event, even in a foreign country, humanitarian actors will still be permeable to “various pressures for conformity exerted by institutional referents” (Pache and Santos 2010). Being this so, external actors will decide to choose the regulations, prescriptions, and expectations of the institutional order to which they belong (Pache and Santos 2010). The selection is inevitable. Significant disruptions such as disasters are cognitively confusing both for humanitarians and for the victims and survivors. When a disaster strikes, symbolic constructions flow, change, and adapt, some are selected, and others are discarded; the familiar context in which logics are prioritized becomes uncertain and unstable. The transition of the context marks an evolution from a pre-disaster institutional system to a post-disaster one. Sometimes this even happens in a matter of minutes. Disasters disrupt the institutional structures of both humanitarians and survivors in different ways. In consequence, they produce a symbolic disconnection. While in the case of the local population, disasters create a massive local institutional breakdown that removes their ability to cope with foreign forces, the western “humanitarian” symbolic structure is robust and prominent. While both experience such profound cognitive confusion, the symbolic constructions that shape and define their driving institutional logics have the power to cloud or funnel their interpretation into a very narrow cognitive space. The

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inevitable consequence is that it creates in the humanitarians an unreal conviction that both collectives equally understand the relationship between them and the local population, that both collectives feel the relationship exists in a comfortable, familiar, and brotherly environment. The case of material donations is a good example. For many years, the disaster and humanitarian literature has criticized and even fought against allowing material donations to be part of the relief response to a disaster. This posture is based on the idea that the massive volume of donations received from individual citizens overwhelms and negatively affects the logistical apparatus needed to deliver other more precious items, such as medicines and food. And there is truth to this. When people learn of a disaster, donating used “stuff” has historically been one of the most immediate reactions. Generally, the logic from the people is that there is no reason to save and store unused things, and they would be of much better use to someone affected by a disaster. Keep in mind that these massive amounts of materials have been kindly donated by people. And even though, in some circumstances, the donated items could be in poor condition, we cannot disesteem the importance of these sentiments of love and compassion for humanitarian action’s overall well-being. Secondly, I would dare to challenge the assertion that these items have no value to disaster survivors. Even the strangest and trivial items generally have value for those living in a permanent condition of extreme poverty. These alternative postures lead us to the following. The values, norms, and principles of those in charge of aid distribution drive the discussion of material convergence and low-priority items. Items are cataloged according to what they consider important for disaster survivors, and the logistical problems they create only exist if you prioritize expediency and managerial efficiency. No matter how well humanitarians believe that they understand the “needs” of the affected population, it will always be their own representation. Due to this, it will be biased. I witnessed the strongest case during my trip to one of the Caribbean Islands where Hurricane Maria and Irma made landfall. One of the beneficiaries of a humanitarian reconstruction program was receiving support both in the form of money and volunteer labor to rebuild his house. The case of this beneficiary is unique. I could share with him and his family enough time and activities that allowed us to connect in a singular manner. During those days, we became very close, and he opened up to me even to admit the critical place where he found himself due to having been selected by the program. And what makes it a unique case is that the same quality time and activities were also shared with the international volunteers and different connections I had with staff from the organization. Not surprisingly, they all strongly agreed and were deeply convinced that what they did for this family was outstanding and incredibly helpful. And it was indeed, but they failed to see the reality of this humble family, which was concealed to all those that didn’t have the training and interest to see beyond the visible and tangible things in front of them.

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5.3.2 Failed Multi-Culturalism Humanitarians are not blind to this. Both practitioners and scholars have referred to this distance extensively. However, they seem to find it challenging to understand the real essence of the problem. The preferred counterstrategy to prevent this distance from increasing has been implementing policies and procedures that maximize diversity to guarantee a larger spectrum of views and ideas. Unfortunately, a big part of this intensive multi-culturalism generally falls into an endless pit. By increasing the number of nationalities in volunteers and staff, and preventing discrimination based on gender, race, sexual orientation, and other commonly used variables, the processes to increase diversity are reduced to a recruitment problem. Organizations fail to consider the power of symbolic attraction, an important characteristic of institutional logics that operates across and within organizations. Incorporating new (diverse) elements into a department, for instance, is generally not enough to compensate for the strong bonds and consequent conventional interpretation that has solidified over time among the previous team members. Not only that, but the strength of these symbolic connections tends to overwhelm and gobble, in a way, the institutional logics of the newly integrated member. Inevitably, the powerless interpretations of the new member will eventually merge with that of the majority. Through continuous interaction, institutional logics come together through a symbiotic process, and their exquisite diversity is lost. The variety in perceptions and understanding expected from multi-cultural personnel of humanitarian organizations is eclipsed by the uniformity pursued and desired (sometimes inadvertently) by their leaders. It is as if the institutional logics of the minorities or the powerless groups were ambushed and funneled through the lenses of decision-­makers who unknowingly try to generate a more comfortable and friendlier environment for them to operate. But by doing so, they seek to be surrounded and followed mainly by those that conform. Ironically, a similar effect can be found across organizations collaborating extensively, such as humanitarian and local organizations. The distance between them is, to a large extent, the outcome of symbolic magnetism. But there is a power differential that puts the institutional system of the humanitarian in a preferred position that could explain why the humanitarian space continues to be agency-centric (as opposed to beneficiary-oriented) (Hammond and Vaughan-Lee 2012). Additionally, in the case of disasters in developing countries, this power differential materializes in the very often retracted attitude of the beneficiaries who hide their verisimilar fear that aid will stop being delivered. This means that beneficiaries are aware of the inability of humanitarians to perceive this gap, but they choose not to speak up. Probably due to the strength of this symbolic magnetism, and the perceived benefits of coordination that are already so ingrained in the minds of humanitarians, the humanitarian machine has growingly considered standard practices and out-of-the-­ box strategies as the better way to help people around the world. It has also tended to appreciate standardized mechanisms to assess and evaluate the performance of

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those interventions. Considering these results, it would be possible to argue that the assessment of the success or failure of interventions could be biased. This finding has considerable academic and policy implications. From the policy side of things, they suggest that intervention parties are not fully qualified to sensitively assess the many ways in which their own interpretation is different from that of the local populations. For people who have lived in poverty and been hit by a disaster, their remaining belongings, where they spend their time, etc., represent something much more valuable than external humanitarians can comprehend, such as a linkage to family history. The disconnection between how humanitarians and local survivors make sense of the new reality (including the reception of that aid) helps explain why local survivors might prefer not to speak up and disclose their feelings. Box: Core Ideas – Confronting Biases with Diversity When foreign humanitarians and local survivors meet and interact, they try to understand life from the vantage point of the other. The cognitive barrier between the two is almost indistinguishable, but it erodes silently the very nature of locally driven relief efforts. It creates in the humanitarians an unreal conviction that both collectives equally understand the relationship between them and the local population, that both collectives feel the relationship exists in a comfortable, familiar, and brotherly environment. No matter how well humanitarians believe that they understand the “needs” of the affected population, it will always be their own representation. Due to this, it will be biased. To confront this problem, the strive to increase diversity. Organizations fail to consider the power of symbolic attraction. Through continuous interaction, institutional logics come together through a symbiotic process. The variety in perceptions and understanding expected from multi-cultural personnel of humanitarian organizations is eclipsed by the uniformity pursued and desired (sometimes inadvertently) by their leaders

References DiMaggio, Paul J. 1988. Interest and agency in institutional theory. In Institutional patterns and organizations: Culture and environment, ed. Lynne G.  Zucker, 3–21. Cambridge, MA: Ballinger. Drabek, Thomas E. 1986. Human system responses to disaster: An inventory of sociological findings. New York: Springer-Verlag. Friedland, Roger, and Robert R. Alford. 1991. Bringing society back in: Symbols, practices, and institutional contradictions. In The new institutionalism in organizational analysis, ed. Walter W. Powell and Paul J. DiMaggio. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hammond, Laura, and Hannah Vaughan-Lee. 2012. Humanitarian space in Somalia: A scarce commodity. London: Humanitarian Policy Group.

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McEntire, David A. 1997. Reflecting on the weaknesses of the international community during the IDNDR: Some implications for research and its application. Disaster Prevention and Management 6: 221. Mumford, Lewis. 1967. The myth of the machine. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. Older, Malka. 2019. Disaster response as secondary hazard. In Disaster research and the second environmental crisis: Assessing the challenges ahead, ed. James Kendra, Scott Gabriel Knowles, and Tricia Wachtendorf. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-­3-­030-­04691-­0. Otegui, Diego. 2019, March. Can gangs play a role in providing relief? Humanitarian Alternatives, n°10: 100–109. http://alternatives-­humanitaires.org/en/2019/03/25/ can-­gangs-­play-­role-­providing-­relief/ ———. 2020. The concealed weaknesses of strong early warning systems. The case of Mexico. Scientific Papers of the Main School of Fire Service. Issue 74: 93–111. https://zeszytynaukowe-­ sgsp.pl/resources/html/article/details?id=206334 ———. 2021. Understanding the cognitive gap between humanitarians and survivors during humanitarian operations. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 63. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2021.102427. Otegui, Diego, and Daryl Yoder-Bontrager, eds. 2021. The humanitarian machine: Reflections from practice, Routledge humanitarian studies. Abingdon: Routledge. Pache, Anne-Claire, and Filipe Santos. 2010. When worlds collide: The internal dynamics of organizational responses to conflicting institutional demands. The Academy of Management Review 35 (3): 455–476. Scott, W.  Richard. 2014. Institutions and organizations: Ideas, interests, and identities. Los Angeles: SAGE. Vaux, Anthony. 2001. The Selfish Altruist: Relief Work in Famine and War. Sterling, VA: Earthscan. Veblen, Thorstein. 1909. The limitations of marginal utility. Journal of Political Economy 17 (9): 620–636.

Chapter 6

A New Vision of Humanitarian Action

6.1 Theoretical Implications Applying institutional logics proved to be an innovative approach to humanitarian and disaster studies. As I see it, its most significant merit is that it offers an alternative path to understanding and studying the different cognitive structures and processes that both humanitarians and disaster victims follow, especially when they meet right after a disaster. The study provides the basis to continue the extensive research that has already been done. It would lend itself well for use by scholars interested in forwarding our knowledge on the benefits and harms of international convergence. There are a few important contributions that deserve special attention. Traditionally, studies on humanitarian deployments and convergence have mostly focused on the impact of disasters, and humanitarian action is mainly conceived to respond to disaster survivors’ needs or the demands generated by the disaster agent. Under this lens, everything that humanitarians do is a reaction to something external to them. Institutional logics allows us to see humanitarian action from an entirely different vantage point. Convergence-related decisions can be traced to the moment when someone gives meaning to post-disaster information. Consequently, the deployment of people and organizations toward a disaster-­impacted area, and everything they do once on the field, is the outcome of how humanitarian leaders process information. Essentially, humanitarian action depends on how this sense-making process is resolved. This process is deeply influenced by culturally and historically determined institutional logics. Through this new lens, even though humanitarian interventions are still a reaction to external impulses, the humanitarian discipline can be studied by focusing on how humanitarian leaders cognitively engage the information they receive and the specifics of the people they seek to help. This, in turn, pushes us to pay attention to the post-disaster circumstances, not only those directly affected by a disaster but also considering the overall life circumstances of humanitarians, which are known to affect the prioritization of logics. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1_6

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This line of thinking supports the novel idea that in the design process of humanitarian interventions, attention should be paid to the circumstances faced by affected populations and those faced by humanitarian actors. Essentially, this means that the conditions faced by humanitarian workers matter. Personal circumstances such as the birth of a child, a promotion, moving with the family to another location, and so on are all circumstances that affect the way that they prioritize institutional logics. Because of this, they indirectly affect post-disaster decisions and global humanitarian operations. Another important contribution to the theory is that these new vantage points also allow us to pay attention to an aspect of the humanitarian enterprise that has been left unattended. This book introduced the idea that humanitarian action can be understood as a relationship between people. Most of the time, humanitarian action involves concrete human activities, such as the distribution of relief aid, which should not distract us from understanding that there is a purpose behind these activities. Every time someone leaves the comfort of their daily life to take a plane and go across the world to a context that most humanitarians agree is generally dangerous and uncertain, they do it because they choose to engage and relate to those in need of assistance. We can go back and forth about the true motivations, but it is undeniable that humanitarian action is fed by how humanitarians assess and understand “the other.” This is to say that relationships within the humanitarian space play a critical role in determining the success of a humanitarian intervention. On the one hand, it affects how the western humanitarian infrastructure understands the nature of those that are considered to need aid, as well as the relationship with them. Decisions about a deployment, such as who to send to the field, how many to send and for which purpose, are not made, at least entirely, according to concrete and factual information. Still, humanitarians unconsciously consider who else is involved in the process, including who are those being served. This means that the humanitarian machine behaves differently depending on who needs support and who else is involved in the process. A similar thing happens from the side of the recipients of relief aid, and it can be argued that survivors experience the aid they receive differently, according to who delivers it. This is important because it can help reveal, for instance, who are the ideal humanitarian providers for each circumstance. The importance of this finding is paramount as it uncovers an area of practice and research that can respond to many current and old dilemmas within the humanitarian sector. For many years, humanitarian scholars have tried to understand how humanitarian workers and the larger structures in which they operate relate to the populations they serve. This challenge lies at the heart of many other current dialogues, such as minimizing the negative impact of colonial thinking residues and improving localization practices. This has been an important area of tension and disappointment, and no theory that captures the sources of the disconnection has been developed yet. Institutional logics can change that.

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Box: Core Ideas – The Value of Focusing the Attention in the Relationship Between Actors Using Institutional Logics as a new lens, even though humanitarian interventions are still a reaction to external impulses, the humanitarian discipline can be studied by focusing on how humanitarian leaders cognitively engage the information they receive and the specifics of the people they seek to help. This book introduced the idea that humanitarian action can be understood as a relationship between people, and that relationships within the humanitarian space play a critical role in determining the success of an intervention.

6.2 A Problem of Vision and Suggestions for Improvement To improve the efficiency of an increasingly complex international humanitarian space, there has been a push to standardize processes and make it easier to all actors to coordinate their efforts. This entire book is essentially a call to question this posture. In the mind of the proactive and susceptible international system, certain events automatically generate conditions that justify and precipitate an intervention. One of the main problems with a massive external convergence is that it occurs in a space with weakened or broken material structures but also in a time when the local institutional and symbolic structures that shape and secure societal identities are unarguably affected. When this happens, societies lose the mechanisms that allow them to cope efficiently with external forces. This is a critical indirect consequence of disasters, especially in impoverished communities. Such indirect consequences lie at the intersection of a debilitated institutional environment and the convergence of a massive number of foreign actors. Undeniably, the immense cultural, historical, and ideological differences between humanitarian actors and disaster victims cannot but collide. This is an unrecognized and unintended though genuine and critically negative consequence of current international disaster response operations. This interaction between international humanitarian actors and local stakeholders is a fascinating research topic, and new scholarly contributions become available periodically. Some of that research addresses the problems known to be caused by external actors, in a time when the quality, efficiency, and even the necessity for this global mobilization have been tested (Vaux 2006; Alexander 2006; Portsea 1992; McEntire 1997). Another fraction of that research focuses on how to resolve them. Humanitarian action has become very politicized, to the point that even sharing the tiniest piece of information is often tricky (Otegui 2020). However, the sector continues to bang its head against the wall, attempting to develop a worldwide bulletproof system that responds to their interests and addresses the demand to abide by the culture of disaster survivors and respond to a crisis in a way that is appropriate and sensitive. I honestly believe this is impossible, and those novel ideas

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pursuing this goal are doomed to live a short and fugacious life. In light of this reality, coordination, although a noble pursuit, seems to be a futile concept at best. Assisting is a matter of designing systems as much as it is about assuming that everyone is friendly and driven by love (I am being sarcastic, by the way). Engineered systems are excellent and efficient as long as you have control. When you lose control and uncertainty takes over, systems become an illusion. However, I do not intend to discredit the advances made toward improving post-disaster coordination. It might read like that but believe me when I say I am a fervent defender of post-­ disaster coordination. I am against the idea that all the problems generated by an indiscriminate number of foreign actors can be resolved with it. My most important suggestion is for my humanitarian peers. Most of you have stand-by groups that can be deployed instantly. One individual could work in Venezuela one day, Somalia the following, Slovakia in the afternoon, and China the week after. Even though this approach has merit, it does not consider its implications for the people you serve. It supports a philosophical posture that underlies homogeneity in vision and action, which is contrary to the current argument that supports customizing the delivery of assistance to make it more sensitive. Instead of adhering to what your own network considers a “best practice,” you should learn more about yourselves, your prejudices, and your shortcomings, and you must strive to recognize the individuality of the people you are trying to help. To go to more places, contrary to what you may think, does not allow you to get to know someone better. On the contrary, it distracts you. Having in your team “experts that have been all over the world and have participated in millions of response operations” means nothing to a victim. All it does is demonstrate that not only do you consider those from the global south significantly different from you, but you also consider all of them the same, that the experience your team gained in Sri Lanka can be used in the Dominican Republic. And believe me when I say that that is not the case. It is harmful and condescending. If you want to get better, you must re-design your recruitment strategies. You don’t always need a 4 × 4 type of individual who can “navigate broken systems” and work in synchronicity with the other converging actors. What you need to do is to deploy someone empathetic and well aware of how local communities perceive reality. This, to my understanding, is so much more important. I also have a bit of advice for other scholars. Because humanitarian deployments have become a normal response to disaster events, they need to be studied minutely through different lenses and apply novel and bold theoretical frameworks. Otherwise, you risk continuing to produce dull, unimportant research for the people. I do not really know how you can do this. All I can tell you is that Institutional Logics proved to be an innovative approach and would help expand the extensive research that has already been done. Its most significant merit is that it offers lots of flexibility, so it would lend itself well for use by scholars who are interested in incorporating the perceptions of the victims, survivors, and other local stakeholders. I also have an important suggestion for the entire humanitarian space, for those in the United Nations, the political leaders, and top strategists at large humanitarian organizations. And it is about something that you all already know, but probably you

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do not know how much you know, for the simple reason that you do not spend much time thinking about this. You must change your perceptions and vision and see the developing world differently. You might not want to accept it, but to a large extent, the humanitarian sector’s problem is the paternalistic view of global powers over those countries with fewer resources. Disasters change things, but most of the population living there, are resilient to a level nobody from the developed world could even imagine. They not only know a lot, but they are also fearless. In the poorest nations in the world, some people go to bed not knowing if a bomb will drop from the sky during the night and they can still sleep; you have people that are willing to cross entire oceans floating on a few logs tied up together with an old rope to put their kids to safety; you have people that every single day, have to leave their homes not knowing if they will be kidnapped or killed by someone trying to steal their shoes; people that are forced to live as members of violent groups (Otegui 2019), and you have people that can spend entire seasons without electricity or food. These are NOT people that need to learn to make systems, but people that live their whole lives building systems. You may not even know how to recognize them, but their systems provide them with the essential things to make them smile when they are among their loved ones. And this does not only apply to people living in societies from the global south, but to all those who live a fragile life, have to fight a daily fight to survive, those that are unheard, who face discrimination. Latinos and African Americans, women and children from the margins, people with different abilities, the poor who live in slums, and single parents. These are all groups of people with no access to the same resources as traditional humanitarian actors, but they possess lots of capacities, and most importantly, they own the right to choose how they want to be helped. Box: Core Ideas – The Problems with Coordination and Suggestions Massive external convergence occurs in a space with weakened or broken material structures but also in a time when the local institutional and symbolic structures that shape and secure societal identities are unarguably affected. Undeniably, the immense cultural, historical, and ideological differences between humanitarian actors and disaster victims cannot but collide. This is an unintended, genuine, and critically negative consequence of current international disaster response operations. Most of the population living in the developing world are resilient to a level nobody from the developed world could even imagine. They not only know a lot, but they are also fearless. These are NOT people that need to learn to make systems, but people that live their whole lives building systems. You may not even know how to recognize them, but their systems provide them with the essential things to make them smile when they are among their loved ones.

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6.3 A New Cadre of Leaders Unfortunately, the massive convergence of international actors is likely to continue growing in numbers, strength, and diversity. But most importantly, at the current pace, humanitarian action is likely to become a popular entertainment for the masses, for those that inconceivably undermine the strength and the resilience of the peoples of the global south, to the point that they convince themselves that when a disaster strikes, all that is needed, is travel the world with a bag of rice and old clothes dispensed by the wealthy. Everything points out that this massive workforce is made of and will continue to be made of individuals that are only capable of paying attention to the most superficial layers of humanitarian action and incapable of reflecting on the nuances of human connections. Even in front of this reality, as discussed extensively throughout the book, those with leading responsibilities in the humanitarian sphere must address and confront many demands and pressures. But that doesn’t mean they have what it takes. Without a doubt, the most significant and the one that requires the most immediate attention is that they must find a way to provide valuable services without harming those served. This new demand is, at the same time, the most laborious. While the global humanitarian space is confident that their actions are purely informed by “the needs of the people,” institutional logics lets us see that they are actually driven by a biased interpretation of the context. They are driven by a series of assumptions based on their belief that all humans are equals and that we can all relate to one another utterly and without disruptions. This issue is greatly influenced by the idea that seeing someone in need is compelling for social beings. Helping others, be it in a surgery room, a shelter, or a classroom, is a natural and expected part of everyday life. It describes interest in the well-being and survival of others, and in a way, it also speaks of the desire of individuals for the continuity of the human race. When we look at humanitarian action from this new vantage point, it is easier to see that the strategies to confront new demands calls for leaders who can acknowledge and understand the biases stemming from symbolic constructions, most notably those that affect the way they relate to others. That doesn’t mean that the solution is easy. If I managed to convince you to read the entire book, you are probably confused. As I mentioned before, institutional logics is not an easy theoretical framework. But I am hoping that you also feel challenged. We know that humanitarian convergence is much less than ideal. We know it is a source of significant headaches and pain for the local communities. The big question we have in front of us is, now what? What can we do about it? The response is certainly not easy. The answer will actually depend on how we define the problem. I am of the opinion that the ultimate goal is to adapt the humanitarian structure in such a way that we can guarantee an increased and more efficient flow of resources to the people, but in a way that is not disruptive, that considers the way that people relate and is sensitive to the local culture and general ways of being. If we agree with this broad statement, how do we do it? What would be the best

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strategies to achieve it? How do we dismantle this massive machinery and put it back together in a way that is appropriate to current demands and sensitive to the societies of the Global South? We can work around multiple ideas, such as figuring out a way to control post-disaster convergence or redirecting more resources to local preparedness. But I would dare to say that none of these ideas have any chance of success because they are all cognitively biased. This is one of those cases where the problem with the responses is the same as the problem with the question. The humanitarian space is one of the most diverse ecosystems. In such a space, a solution can make lots of sense to you, but that doesn’t mean they are understood the same way by everybody else. The source of the differences is essentially symbolic. In other words, we can agree on the solution statement but still have irreconcilable differences in the meaning we assign to it. Needless to say, if this is the case, the implementation of the solution will differ from one actor to another. In such a cognitively confusing post-disaster context, disaster response becomes a specialized field that requires much more than just knowledgeable decision-­ makers (Katoch 2006). It requires leaders capable of understanding how local and foreign elements connect. The leaders that are in a proper position to maneuver the stiff, clumsy, self-absorbed humanitarian machine (Otegui and Yoder-Bontrager 2021) and produce services that are relevant, sensitive, timely, adequate, and of interest to the victims are those that can read the symbols that feed cognitive processes, in particular those symbols that help us figure out what is the appropriate role of others in our own lives (Otegui 2021). Most of our current humanitarian leaders are unfortunately not qualified to do so. They have been trained to focus their energies on things they can see and touch and now have a very pronounced “operational profile” that embodies the disposition to abandon the “known” and engage in the “unknown.” They overvalue their will and ability to sleep on a floor, leave their families behind, and immerse themselves in a post-disaster context’s “risky environment.” They praise themselves for having traveled the world and think that more millage equals more cultural sensitivity, and because of this, they are convinced that they are good at recognizing true feelings and desires. But they are not. Many of these leaders just do not know that acquiring the ability to identify and understand the symbolic cues of interactions is not enough to be closer to the day-­ to-­day operations. This is one of the major flaws of current humanitarian action. Most organizations already have or are trying to improve their “surge capacity,” as they call it. This is nothing but a group of individuals that, from their point of view, are qualified to be the first to be deployed anywhere in the world right after a disaster. One of the most challenging requirements to get into these teams is international experience. It is as if the more you know about the world, the more time you have spent in a “disaster context,” the more countries you have traveled to, the stronger your ability to land anywhere in the world and perform successfully. They are trained to set up operations, to “navigate” disruptive systems, and their physical and emotional endurance defines them.

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But this is hardly enough. I do think that traveling is fantastic; it provides you with unique skills and cultural sensitivity, but not the ones you need as a humanitarian worker. The more time you spend in different places, the more superficial your knowledge about any single culture will be, and the more you will be inclined to fill your mental voids with inaccurate and flawed images. These are images that are based on past experiences. In the face of the unknown, such as when you arrive at a place that is unfamiliar to you, your brain brings forward experiences, circumstances, ideas, and feelings from the past. It attempts to produce a mental structure similar to the one in front of you. It operates this way to provide a more familiar environment to base your actions and adjust your path. To succeed in this field, a humanitarian leader must have three things. They need to be a technical expert and know everything about their areas of expertise, be it water and sanitation, shelter, or nutrition. Secondly, they must be more distant from the field and spend at least a bit of time in the world of abstraction. Being close to the field is good but is not the best. As Thornton puts it, “an actor may not need to be relationally connected or socialized in the typical sense by families and organizations to perceive the meaning of cultural symbols and act out practices that materialize those symbols” (Thornton, Ocasio, and Lounsbury 2012, p. 61). In other words, a humanitarian leader that spends time in the field is good, but s/he doesn’t need to be in the field for the duration of the intervention to understand and take into consideration the specific logics drawn by the people s/he serves. Lastly, the best humanitarian leader also has to have a very profound knowledge of the culture, the language, the social system, the history, the political environment, the law, geography, and all the other things that define a particular society. And this is just to connect with the local populations at that symbolic level. In summary, the response to our question is hard to find, but I know it requires a new cadre of leaders that can simultaneously operate on a different, achievable vision that is constructed on what should be. At the end of the day, if you think about it, the only possible solution can come from leaders who “share the meaning of things.” This means that the solution is not really important. What matters is the shared cognitive process used to design it. These dilemmas require an entirely different approach, focused on the mental processes of those in charge of making decisions. In Institutional Logics terms, the ideal solution can only come from leaders who can decipher the logics that others use to assign meaning. If you are thinking: “Wow, this guy seems to be suggesting assigning the massive responsibility of redesigning the entire global humanitarian space to a small bunch of individuals,” you are right. I am. At least in part. I am not saying that the bunch has to be small, but I am indeed saying that the change will come from individuals. Would this be appropriate? Would this be fair? Can individuals be the source of systemic change? The sweet answer is yes. The role of individuals in systemic change is too important to be discarded as a viable strategy. Disaster scholars have advanced our knowledge on this topic but mostly under a broader interest in individual behavior. Institutional theorists have also studied this topic and concluded that changes in institutional systems can be considered a byproduct of the behavior

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of what he called institutional entrepreneurs (DiMaggio 1988), who manages to gather support from others. These are new approaches to studying the role and impact of individuals in systemic change, but the world has been interested in “the individual” since the beginning of time. As our world grows old and our global society becomes more knowledgeable and interconnected, we continue to learn more about the fantastic things that some folks have accomplished. Individuals like Michelangelo, Martin Luther, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Einstein, Socrates, Nelson Mandela, the Dalai Lama, and thousands of others have left their mark in history and improved our world in one way or another. So why not think of the possibility of bringing some brilliant minds, teach them about the challenges we face as humanitarians, help them bring to a conscious level how human cognition affects humanitarian decisions, and guide them to work together in finding a strategy to improve the humanitarian architecture? Box: Core Ideas – Leaders Who Can Read the Symbols That Feed Cognitive Processes While the global humanitarian space is confident that their actions are purely informed by “the needs of the people,” institutional logics let us see that they are actually driven by a biased interpretation of the context. When we look at humanitarian action from this new vantage point, it is easier to see that the leaders that are in a proper position to maneuver the stiff, clumsy, self-­ absorbed humanitarian machine and produce services that are relevant, sensitive, timely, adequate, and of interest to the victims are those that can read the symbols that feed cognitive processes, in particular those symbols that help us figure out what is the appropriate role of others in our own lives.

6.4 I Propose… You probably noticed that I was very critical of the current state of humanitarian action. I critiqued its structure, its procedures, and even its values. But I don’t want you to hate me for it. I could have done it differently, softened my words, been kind and polite, praised the work of my colleagues and friends, and used this book to exclusively advance my career and receive the benefits of showing how good a compliant thinker I can be. Had I done that, I wouldn’t have been faithful to what I believe in. Keep in mind that I am from a developing country. Argentina hasn’t suffered horrific, catastrophic events such as Haiti, Nepal, or Indonesia, but it is already one of those unlivable countries, where nothing works, where everybody fights everybody, where you are scared all the time, where they change the rules every 5 min, where you never know what will happen. And like it or not, despite the cultural differences among developing countries around the world, this is what connects us and gives me the authority to write what I wrote. What gives me the

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authority to critique and defend the developing world is not my Ph.D., my experience, or my years in the field of humanitarian action or emergency management. It is the underdevelopment we share, the struggle that it is to live where we live. Even if I was very critical, I am certainly not claiming that humanitarian action shouldn’t exist or that the wealthy should stop helping the poor, far from it. Doing what we are doing is precisely what the world needs. But I am saying that a few significant adjustments could be made. They would make the system so much better, and they would make so many people happier. The main point I made throughout the book is that humanitarians and local survivors will never be able to relate in the way humanitarians want and expect. They dream and desire to do things the way survivors wish to, but their sole existence, everything that they are, is so diametrically different that the barrier will never be broken. As a direct consequence, the only thing left to be done is what researchers and policymakers have agreed on for a long time. The wealthy nations have to invest their money in preparedness and not in response. Not just any preparedness thought. I firmly believe that the focus of attention must be on increasing the capacity of local stakeholders, but also that complements the development process. Well, dah !!.. some humanitarians will say. We have been doing this for ages !!. And I agree. That is why my last piece of advice is probably going to be critiqued by everyone. The issue with humanitarian action is the ridiculously heterogeneous and amorphous convergence, which has been the central topic of the book. Convergence means nothing more than people arriving at one location at the same time. And the question I have for you is, how can this be possible? Let me propose that we leave research and experience on the side for the moment and bring down the conversation once more to the superficial, more comfortable level of daily life, and let me ask you the following. Where do you go when you need legal help? Do you go to the grocery store? Where do you go when you need food? Do you go to school? I don’t even need to respond to these questions, do I? The point I am trying to make is that the reason that there are so “many humanitarians” and that the global perception that “anybody can be a humanitarian” is based on the assumption that whatever it is that your skills and expertise are, there will be someone that needs it. So if you have food, you believe there will be someone that needs food. And there will be someone needing legal assistance, someone with a broken pipe, and someone needing help with their garden. And when you consider all “these needs,” suddenly you have a lawyer, a plumber, and a botanist taking a flight and becoming a part of the problem. If you consider humanitarian action as the sum of its elemental parts, then it makes sense that everyone has someone to offer because, at the end of the day, the fundamental “need” is to help society get back on its feet. And in light of this, every profession, skill, ability, toy, piece of clothing, and food becomes essential. But if you think about humanitarian action as a profession in its own right, then you will understand that the only way it can really be of use to disaster victims is that only those highly skilled and trained are considered humanitarian workers and deployed. Once again, “that is what we have been doing !!” humanitarians will say. And they will be correct. There are many programs out there to train those who want to

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do this for a living. But that doesn’t remove the barrier that I mentioned before. In my opinion, the only people that can be humanitarians are those that live and belong to the society that has been impacted. That is why I have always praised and supported the work of the Red Cross movement and religious humanitarian organizations. Because they are much more locally driven than the rest. Are they free of blame? They certainly are not. I have worked for both, and they bring important benefits to the humanitarian sector but have significant challenges ahead. What makes the Red Cross so unique is that it is the Red Cross. It is the largest, more respected, better funded, and more qualified humanitarian organization worldwide. They have national societies in every country wholly comprised of local people. The response would be fantastic if the entire movement could channel the resources to that national society. It would be potent, with lots of money, and entirely driven by locals. But that is not the case. National Societies (NS) around the world are independent of one another. They are like a network, but they have freedom of action. The International Federation of the Red Cross is like an umbrella organization that tries to bring them together and coordinate their efforts, but the truth is that many NS do not make it easy for them. You have extremely powerful NSs, such as the American or the German, that raise so much money that they can do whatever they want. And when a disaster hits, they “converge” themselves in the same old fashion way that others do. And so you can have many different Red Crosses working in the same location. In the case of religious organizations, is that for the most part, they work with local congregations. They generally deploy very few skilled individuals because congregations are not humanitarian agencies, so they are not nearly as proficient in responding to a disaster as the Red Cross. But it can be argued that they bring one thing to the table that is worth noticing. The congregation is as local as it can be, even way more than the satellite regional red crosses in the countries. There are, however, some concerns about local congregations. As I said before, they are not experts in emergency management or humanitarian response, so they do lack the necessary skills. The other is that it is regularly argued that, in part, because funding comes from other congregations from the same denomination from around the world, they tend to help their “own people” more, which goes against humanitarian principles. When it comes to this second challenge, I personally do not mind. As a matter of fact, the idea of forcing someone to offer assistance exclusively based on need doesn’t make much sense to me. That is only possible with the way things are right now. You have a bunch of people that parachute themselves in a place where they don’t know anybody and just help everybody. We have been dragging this idea since the beginning of humanitarian action when “humanitarians” were assisting wounded soldiers on the battlefield, and in doing so, they couldn’t be associated with any of the parties in conflict. But in all honesty, this idea goes against the way humans are, and if you think about it, by helping the ones that you chose to help, you are actually solving all the “symbolic” problems I have listed in this book. By helping someone you know, you will help better. I understand that this sounds cold and might lead to people with

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more “needs” being underserved, but that is how our mind operates. Why would I help someone I don’t know if I also have to help someone I know. If you make me choose between my daughter and a stranger, I will choose my daughter. In the same way, if I have to choose between a friend from Church and a stranger, I will help my friend from Church. Having said this, we still have to take care of the stranger. How we can do this is the big question. I think the response is straightforward. If both my friend from Church and I have enough resources, have a bit of knowledge, and are well prepared, then helping others is easy. The challenge is that our world is unbelievably unequal. You have billions of people eating food from dumpsters in places that are so incredibly contaminated that not even the flies want to be there, and you have people like Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Richard Branson that spend BILLIONS of dollars a day to compete among themselves to see who get to see the Earth from Space. If I had to bet all that I have and all that I am on one strategy to fix global humanitarian action, I would do these simple things: (1) I would only have very few, very large humanitarian organizations, including the Red Cross and religious organizations. I think the balance between them would be healthy, but I will discuss this in another article I am working on. (2) I would prohibit them from deploying tons of people. I would make them put all the money they can raise into creating extremely efficient and knowledgeable local agencies that are well resourced, and that know tons about humanitarian action and emergency management, and (3) I would tax the mega-rich, and I would put all that money to the service of those local agencies. How can all this be done? By growing a cadre of committed leaders capable of understanding the power of symbolic constructions. Box: Core Ideas – The Barrier Will Never Be Broken What gives me the authority to critique and defend the developing world is not my Ph.D., my experience, or my years in the field of humanitarian action or emergency management. It is the underdevelopment we share, the struggle that it is to live where we live. Humanitarians and local survivors will never be able to relate in the way humanitarians want and expect. They dream and desire to do things the way survivors wish to, but their sole existence, everything that they are, is so diametrically different that the barrier will never be broken.

References Alexander, David. 2006. Globalization of disaster: Trends, problems and dilemmas. Journal of International Affairs 59 (2): 1–22. DiMaggio, Paul J. 1988. Interest and agency in institutional theory. In Institutional patterns and organizations: Culture and environment, ed. Lynne G.  Zucker, 3–21. Cambridge, MA: Ballinger.

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Katoch, Arjun. 2006. The responders’ cauldron: The uniqueness of international disaster response. (RELIEF and RESPONSE). Journal of International Affairs 59 (2): 153. McEntire, David A. 1997. Reflecting on the weaknesses of the international community during the IDNDR: Some implications for research and its application. Disaster Prevention and Management 6: 221. Otegui, Diego. 2019, March. Can gangs play a role in providing relief? Humanitarian Alternatives, n°10: 100–109. http://alternatives-­humanitaires.org/en/2019/03/25/ can-­gangs-­play-­role-­providing-­relief/ ———. 2020. The concealed weaknesses of strong early warning systems. The case of Mexico. Scientific Papers of the Main School of Fire Service. Issue 74: 93–111. https://zeszytynaukowe-­ sgsp.pl/resources/html/article/details?id=206334 ———. 2021. Understanding the cognitive gap between humanitarians and survivors during humanitarian operations. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 63. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2021.102427. Otegui, Diego, and Daryl Yoder-Bontrager, eds. 2021. The humanitarian machine: Reflections from practice, Routledge humanitarian studies. Abingdon: Routledge. Portsea, L.J. 1992. Disaster relief or relief disaster? A challenge to the international community*. Disasters 16 (1): 1–8. Thornton, Patricia H., William Ocasio, and Michael Lounsbury. 2012. The institutional logics perspective: A new approach to culture, structure, and process. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vaux, Tony. 2006. Humanitarian trends and dilemmas. Development in Practice 16 (3): 240–254.

Appendix: Methods1

Data Collection Building on the ideas in preceding chapters, this dissertation was originally driven by the following questions: (1) How do underlying beliefs, principles, and societal norms influence the way humanitarian officials interpret post-disaster information? (2) How do these interpretations, in turn, affect international convergence? Essentially, the goal was to understand how humanitarian leaders apply institutional logics in the decision-making process. More specifically, how institutional logics influenced humanitarian deployments. For this, I needed to dig deep inside subjective interpretations. It also required speaking with those that have participated in disaster relief operations. The method I selected was in-depth interviews, which are described in the first sub-section. Since the defense of the original proposal, the possibility to travel to disaster-­ impacted areas opened. I collected additional data from field research trips to Mexico, the Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico, which had been recently impacted by disasters. This opportunity offered me the possibility to extend the research. The final question drove this dissertation is: how do institutional logics influence international humanitarian operations? The method used to collect data during these trips is discussed in the second sub-section. Having into consideration the limited amount of data collected, the findings of this dissertation cannot be considered representative of the global humanitarian community. But it provides important concrete insights to open a new field of research that has not received enough attention yet: the role of symbolic constructions in humanitarian decision-making.  Following my comments on Sect. 1.4, this section describes the methods I used in my doctoral research. As such, the “chapters” mentioned in it are not the chapters of this book but the chapters of my dissertation (Otegui 2020). 1

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1

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Interviews According to Patton (2002) “understanding what people value and the meanings they attach to experiences, from their own personal and cultural perspectives, are major areas for qualitative inquiry” (p. 174). To study the role of the individual is not only important but necessary, to the point that “noted scholars in many fields have suggested that the study of individual lives over time is indispensable for social inquiry” (Hone 1998, p. 3). Furthermore, it is at the level of the individual, where the practices and symbols that conform to each institutional order can be manipulated (Friedland and Alford 1991), and it has been pointed out that “the agency of aid workers is an area that remains particularly unexamined in humanitarian studies” (Nielsen et al. 2010, p. 64). I used semi-structured interviews to collect data from 30 humanitarian leaders, which allows the researcher to gather specific information as well as probe for additional details after using open-ended questions (Berg and Lune 2012). They are “…optimal for dynamic and unpredictable situations, and situations in which the variety of respondents suggests a wide variety of types of responses” (Berg 1998, p.  111), and they are also an “effective technique for idea generation” (Morgan 1996, p. 139). Merriam (2009) cites DeMarrais and Lapan (2004) who define an interview as “a process in which a researcher and participant engage in a conversation focused on questions related to a research study” (p. 55). I chose interviews for data collection because they allow us to understand individual subjective interpretations of the facts (Berg and Lune 2012). Furthermore, “it is among the most basic and fundamental of methods, and one which, if executed well, brings us arguably closer than many other methods to an intimate understanding of people and their social worlds” (Hermanowicz 2002, p. 480). What is more, “interviewing represents the most used method in qualitative disaster research” (Phillips 2014, p. 66). Norman Denzin pointed out that method and life are intimately interconnected, and one cannot be selected without paying close attention to the definitive aspects of the other and that “one learns about the method by thinking about how one makes sense of one’s own life” (Denzin 2003, p. 315). Following this precept, I considered interviews as the best methodology to enter the uniqueness of the world of disaster participants, as it allows a personal and intimate interpretive conversation characterized by “value, judgment and individual insight” (Rabinow and Sullivan 1987). The interview was guided by questions oriented at understanding how the institutional logics (symbolic constructions and material practices) affected the perception and sense-making of the reality that each interviewee was experiencing. The nature of these types of interviews allowed for some flexibility, which was used to understand more about the way these different interpretations affected the interaction with other individuals in the process of making decisions about deployments. The guide was designed to capture the way that people use institutional logics to the many dimensions and elements that affect a post-disaster intervention. They were also designed to capture the actions that they took after making decisions.

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The strategy for selecting the candidates was purposeful sampling which according to Patton (2002) “focuses on selecting information-­rich [samples] whose study will illuminate the questions under study” (p. 53) and has been defined to be a wellsuited technique for disaster research (Stallings 2002; Phillips 2014). Purposeful sampling entails selecting candidates according to a pre-­defined criterion (Phillips 2014) “and should be used to include people who know the most about the topic” (Merriam 2009, p.  94). They were selected “strategically in alignment with the inquiry’s purpose, primary question and data being collected” (Patton 2002, p. 264). I defined the candidate according to the relationship with the process, instead of the pre-disaster position inside the organization, and I only interviewed individuals with the power to influence the profile and number of the final deployment. To assess this, during the recruitment stage I specifically asked all candidates to describe how deployment decisions are made within their organization and provide concrete examples about their participation in past events. The final group was made of decision-makers in different areas, such as communications, institutional development, operations, public relations, and human resources. The dissertation is interested in organized convergence. What this means, is that the selection of the individual candidates depended on them participating in the decisions to deploy personnel internationally but under the framework of a wellestablished humanitarian organization. Table 1 in Appendix A presents a list of all the organizations that were identified as critical players in the humanitarian ecosystem and were approached in the recruitment process. Once this list was completed, I followed three simultaneous processes to produce a list of internal contacts who could be in a position to help me identify and connect with the final person/s that would meet all the necessary criteria. In the first one, I identified individuals within each of these organizations with whom I had had contact in the past, and that I could reach directly. Each candidate was approached through personalized messages. Secondly, I put together a list of other individuals (friends and colleagues) that might be able to introduce me to new decision-makers in each of these organizations. Thirdly, in the case where I was not able to reach anyone in an organization that I considered necessary, I established direct contact by phone or by email. I asked to be communicated with someone that might have been involved in the decision to deploy personnel in a recent international event. In all three processes, whenever someone offered to help, I followed a snowball sampling (Patton 2015) strategy by requesting to facilitate connection through introductions with other decision-makers. In all cases, an email was sent to them with additional information about the research. They were asked to visit a website with information about the study and the necessary criteria they had to meet to participate and make an informed decision. Following these three simultaneous processes, I was able to produce a list of individuals that were either willing to participate in the research or to help me identify someone else. The final list was built using a specific information-rich sample (Patton 2015, p. 267). For this, I combined information they shared directly with me by email or phone, with the information I extracted from their profiles on different

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social media platforms like LinkedIn and Facebook that have become a truly global community of humanitarian practitioners (Walker 2010). I also extracted information from reports and institutional documents that were published online. To answer the research question, I had to dig deep into moments where the interviewee recalled how s/he processed information related to the intervention. I requested each interviewee to identify and focus on one single event. This practice helped minimize the breadth of data and helped the interviewee bring back more detailed memories. To help them select among many possible past events, in the initial package that was sent to each of them, I included a list with the specific criteria. The package is provided in Appendix D. All interviews lasted between 60 and 90 min. Ninety percent of them were conducted in English and the remaining in Spanish. As part of the original package, permission was requested from all interviewees to record the meeting. In only a few cases, this was not possible due to technical problems or because the permission was denied. The research focused on individuals that were working for either a formal humanitarian organization or a United Nations organization at the time of the disaster. I focused on large international humanitarian organizations (with offices and operations in more than one country). Informal, non-registered volunteer groups were not included in the sample. Private companies and other types of entities were not directly targeted, but someone working on any of these, that presented the necessary criteria was considered for the study. The purpose of focusing on these two types of organizations is to minimize dispersion and produce more accurate conclusions. To sum up, the essential requirement for someone to be considered a qualified candidate for an interview were as follows: • The interviewee must have participated (and have had an important level of decision-making power) in the process to decide whether to deploy personnel to another location to perform post-disaster-related activities. It does not necessarily need to be the place where the disaster happened. • The disaster must have impacted a society different from the society of origin of the interviewee. • Lastly, the interviewee must have been outside of the impacted country at the time of the disaster to account for the effects of the institutional logics on international convergence. Field Data The trip to Mexico took place in 2017, only a few months after the sequence of seismic events that hit the country that year. In the aftermath of these events, the Earthquake Engineering Research Institute (EERI) deployed a multi-disciplinary group of five scientists (including myself) on a reconnaissance trip. Not long after my trip to Mexico, the University of Delaware awarded me a dissertation grant that

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allowed me to travel to Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. The logistics of this trip were facilitated by the regional Panama office of the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC). The first destination was the Dominican Republic. The staff of the IFRC facilitated the connection with the principal office of the National Society of the Red Cross (RCNS). They collaborated with logistics and resources. They helped me organize field trips to locations on the island that had been hit by Hurricane Maria early that year. The objective of the reconnaissance trip was to collect perishable data (Stallings 2006) such as documents and the perceptions of the people, which can change over time as they are subject to things such as memory decay (Bourque et al. 1997). They help highlight important issues that might benefit from further research but do not necessarily provide methodologically strong conclusions. Nonetheless, the data collected enhances the familiarity with particular social problems and settings (Lofland and Lofland 1995). The questions that I asked during the interviews and informal conversations followed the instrument originally presented to the Internal Review Board at the University of Delaware which is included in the Appendices. The only difference was that the questions tried to capture the way that each drew from different institutional logics to make sense of the relationship between them and the many international actors that participated in the response efforts. In all cases, I tried to capture if there had been differences, between the way they related to other local stakeholders, and the way they related to converging international actors. In Mexico, as well as in the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, data were collected from all sites visited including emergency operation centers, logistics centers, warehouses, and shelters, and other sites in the communities that had been affected. The data collected came from the following sources. (1) Documents, including news articles, photographs, reports, maps, and various personal notes and memos, (2) Informal conversations and interviews with regular citizens from different socio-­economic backgrounds, status, sectors, and educational levels including drivers, hotel employees, beneficiaries of humanitarian programs, and other residents that were affected by the events in multiple locations, (3) A total of 15 formal interviews with local decision-­makers, policymakers, technocrats, government officials, scholars, and business owners, (4) A total of nearly 150 h of direct field observations in nearly 20 locations between the two trips. In both trips, interviews were organized using a snowball sampling. In the case of Mexico, team members organized a few meetings before arrival, and interviewees were asked to provide references and introduce us to other friends and colleagues (Gliner et al. 2009). In the case of the Dominican Republic, interviews were organized using the same snowball sampling strategy and through connections made by IFRC and RCNS executives. The IFRC and RCNS arranged a few of the meetings before departure. Other interviews were organized by me by contacting residents.

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Data Analysis I engaged with the data through a content analysis approach using Atlas TI software. This type of analysis is defined here as “a research method for the subjective interpretation of the content of text data through the systematic classification process of coding and identifying themes or patterns” (Hsieh and Shannon 2005, p.  1278). According to Corbin et al. (2008), “a researcher can think of coding as ‘mining’ the data, digging beneath the surface to discover the hidden treasures contained within the data” (p. 66). The analysis of the data and the construction of the codes are two processes that took place simultaneously as they help reciprocally “in the evolution of understanding a phenomenon” (Weston et al. 2001, p. 397). It assisted me in thinking critically, reflecting, and deciding how I had interpreted the information, and what intellectual connections I had seen and made between pieces of data. Ultimately, I was able to review with precision and verify the process of knowledge acquisition that I followed. This reflexive engagement with the data and coding is described by Mason (2002, p. 5) as “thinking critically about what you are doing and why, confronting and often challenging your assumptions, and recognizing the extent to which your thoughts, actions, and decisions shape how you research and what you see.” Having into consideration that the original research proposal was adapted to use the data collected in Mexico and the Caribbean, the three chapters of this dissertation followed a somewhat different analytical process. The entire process is presented in the following figure. The details of the process followed in each chapter are presented separately below.

Sequence of Analysis

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Chapter 5 This chapter presents the impact of institutional logics at each of the three levels of analysis, that of the individual, the organization, and the society at large. The findings presented here are what was promised in the original research proposal. That data analyzed in chapter 5 included (1) the full transcripts of all the formal in-depth interviews to decision-makers, (2) memos that were taken during the conversations in which I captured my interpretations and judgments, and (3) “metamemos” (Saldaña 2013, p. 39) that I created to summarize the data and that allowed me to focus with more attention in specific themes. The goal of the coding process was to identify how individuals processed information (interpreted) and formulated decisions (acted upon their interpretation) employing utilizing institutional logics. Before the formal coding process took place, all the available data up to that point and the literature were reviewed repeatedly to augment the sense of immersion (Hsieh and Shannon 2005), and to search for “codable moments” that are worthy of attention (Boyatzis 1998). The coding process began after I had finalized the transcription of the first few interviews. This allowed the retrieval of valuable information, which was contrasted with the data from the remaining transcriptions (Bazeley and Jackson 2013). 1st Coding Cycle The first coding cycle was entirely inductive, an approach in which the analysis of social phenomena “begins with analyzing the empirical world towards theory-building based on the collected data and researcher’s interpretation” (Moon 2008, p. 71). This implies that there is no reality beyond the reality which is subjectively constructed by each individual, and it is the task of the researchers to “interpret” these multiple realities by “immersing themselves in the world inhabited by those they wish to study” (Esterberg 2002, p. 16). So, I engaged the data without other preconceived notions or categories (Kondracki et al. 2002). The focus at this stage was to explore possible initial categories, patterns, and themes. I used a combination of techniques, including initial coding, InVivo, and Values coding. Initial coding “is what one does at the beginning of data analysis… it is tagging any unit of data that might be relevant to the study” (Merriam 2009, p. 200). It is pertinent as its goal is to remain open to all possible theoretical directions indicated by the readings of the data (Charmaz 2006, p. 46). An InVivo technique complemented this approach by allowing me to find “imagery, symbols, and metaphors for rich category, theme and concept development” (Strauss 1987, p. 160), and it was used to honor the voice (how they refer to) of the interviewees and “ground the analysis from their perspectives” (Saldaña 2013, p.  48). Values coding “tap into the inner cognitive system of participants” and “assesses a participant’s integrated value, attitude, and belief system at work” (Saldaña 2013, p. 86).

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This technique became of substantive importance to identify the subjective meaning that was assigned. Through this analysis, I identified the main areas of interest that the interviewees chose to reflect upon. I developed and applied codes to passages in which it was easy to identify an operational area. For example, when and if a respondent would say “the purpose of the intervention was,” this fragment would be coded as “intervention-goal.” In a similar line of thought, if another respondent said, “by doing this we were able to feed thousands of people,” this fragment would be coded as “intervention-outcome.” By the end of this coding cycle, I had a good understanding of the multiple areas that were of interest to all my respondents which by definition, were the areas in which the logics were applied. 2nd Coding Cycle The codes developed in the first coding cycle were used as the foundation for the second cycle (Saldaña 2013), during which I confirmed, and tested, the appropriateness of the inductive approach used in the first cycle. At this point, the previous codes were “subsumed by other codes, relabeled, or dropped altogether” (Saldaña 2013, p. 10), using a combination of pattern and focused coding. These approaches allow developing a sense of categorical, thematic, conceptual, and theoretical organization from the previous codes (Saldaña 2013). I managed to produce a much more cohesive set of categories which I corroborated to be essential for my interviewees. The codes, which added to nearly 200 by the end of the first coding cycle were grouped into the following: (1) Impacted Area, (2) Event, (3) Overall Response, (4) Organizational Response, (5) Deployment Reasons, (6) Deployment Restrictions, (7) Organization, (8) Humanitarian space, etc. Still, AtlasTi provides functionality that allows the researcher to maintain the original codes. So, for instance, under the code 6-Deployment Restrictions, I was still able to see all the sub-categories of that code such as 6a-Deployment Restrictions (Legal) or 6b-Deployment Restrictions (Logistical). I also focused on identifying how the interviewees coped with and confronted the contradictions and tensions (Barbour and Manly 2016) experienced in the enactment of each of the six original institutional logics presented by Friedland and Alford (1991). During this process, I noticed what appeared to be a gap in the theory. When I was performing the deductive coding using the six existing institutional logics, it did not seem like it was capturing all the dimensionality of what was driving the interpretation and subsequent action of my respondents. The theme was driven by a powerful idea, which is that the six logics, seemed to be insufficient to explain human interaction. The idea that relations could be an institution in and on themselves grew stronger, and the notion of the existence of a seventh logic emerged. To pursue this possibility, I deviated from this original path. The coding process that was used to analyze the existence and key attributes of this logic is described at the end of this chapter. This was unexpected and unplanned and after careful

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consideration of its merit, I decided to introduce this finding into the dissertation in Chapter 7. The analysis confirmed this and consequently when I returned to continue this second cycle, I also explicitly coded for the logic of relations in the same deductive way as I did with the original six logics presented in the theory. Different from the other six logics, its origin, rather than being from the existing literature, was a parallel deductive analysis. Essentially, when I recommenced the analysis, in addition to the original six existing logics, I continued the coding process as if the relational logic had always existed. To determine how individuals drew from these logics, this part of the analysis was essentially deductive, which is an approach through which the data are analyzed through an existing framework (Patton 2015). The level of abstraction of the work of Friedland and Alford (1991) is challenging to apply as they did not provide practical information to identify the presence of institutional logics empirically. To resolve these challenges, I followed the work of Thornton (2004), who laid the ground for a pragmatic approach. She developed a tool that is idealized as a series of key attributes of the institutional orders. According to her, each of the institutional logics has attributes that are presented on the Y-axis of a two-dimensional matrix. They vary according to each institutional order (X-axis), and so, they are different for each institutional logic and “specify the organizing principles that shape individual and organizational preferences and interests” (Thornton et  al. 2012, p. 54). The entire matrix is presented in Appendix G. The attributes displayed in this matrix were used as codes to identify not only the presence of a logic but also to distinguish what attribute of the logic was mostly used to drive interpretation. 3rd Coding Cycle This third iteration had the following complementary purposes. The first one was to achieve an even greater conceptual clarity and pertinence in the classification of the previous codes that were identified in the first two cycles. I used the number of quotes and the depth of the emphasis that was put by the respondent into a certain idea to define the categories and themes that were more salient and ultimately discussed in the chapter. The second one was to organize these themes in a way that would be coherent with the theoretical framework. One of the biggest contributions of the theory presented by Friedland and Alford (1991) is that institutional logics affect interpretation at the level of the individual, the organization, and society. I decided to study the influence of logics at the three levels. To do this, I paid attention to the level that was being referred to in a quotation. For example, if someone said, “I thought of doing this, but my organization has strict policies we have to follow,” this quotation would be classified as “organization.” If someone said, “All that matters to me is how I feel,” then the quotation was classified as “individual.” Lastly, if one of my respondents said, “even if your organization has a mission, we all try to work

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together and respect the more general expectations,” then this quotation was classified as “society.” The last purpose of this cycle was to assess the role of the relational logic, relative to the other logics, so I applied 2 unique codes to track the influence of two main instantiations of this logic, namely the humanitarian logic, and the nonhumanitarian logic. At the end of the third cycle, I had produced a matrix that contained the 3 levels of analysis on the Y-axis and these two categories on the X-axis, as seen in the following image.

Matrix of Thematic Analysis

After selecting the most salient codes as described above, I located them in the table, and using the quotations identified in the first inductive coding cycle, I was able to detect the areas in which institutional logics were having a heftier influence. The painted squares represent the themes that were identified and discussed at each of the three levels. The data for each theme was analyzed using each of the existing logics. For the specific case of the relational logic, I studied the influence of its two instantiations as described above. For instance, the idea of the humanitarian space is one of the themes that is discussed in chapter 5, and that was used by the respondents to refer to the level of analysis of society. Similarly, the idea of the CNN window was mostly used to present the tension between logics at the level of the organization. Chapter 7 During the first stages of the analysis, I encountered the possibility that relations could be driven by a dominant logic that is different from the other existing logics presented by Friedland and Alford (1991). To make this change to the original proposal I followed the appreciation of anthropologists George and Louise Spindler who in 1992 said that “only the human observer can be alert to divergences and

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subtleties that may prove to be more important than the data produced by any predetermined categories of observation or any instrument…The categories of happenings repeat themselves endlessly in human affairs, yet each event is unique” (1992, p. 66). Following their observations, and with the goal of testing for this possibility, I engaged in a parallel analysis to see if the existence of a relational logic could have the explanatory power that I felt the theory was missing. During this time, the opportunity to collect additional field data in Mexico and the Caribbean presented itself. The decision to include data collected during these trips was based on that the focus of this new line of analysis was centered on how individuals relate to others. Interestingly, a portion of my interviewees had referred to deployments in these countries. Consequently, some of the people that I interviewed during the trips were directly related to the decisions that my previous interviewees had made. This allowed me to analyze the concrete way in which both groups related to one another. This was a new theme that became the content of chapter six. The method used for this analysis is presented here. 1st Coding Cycle The relational logic is a way of thinking about your position relative to other people. The analysis started with an inductive approach, to identify passages in the transcripts in which my respondents referred to others with whom they maintained a relationship. The codes that were developed and used at this stage additionally tried to classify the data according to the specific group and reason behind that relationship. This logic was applied to the data collected from humanitarian leaders as well as from the local people. The codes that were defined in this coding cycle were of two kinds. One was aimed at identifying the sequences in the transcript when one group was referring to the other, or another group. The codes were grouped under the name (1) RelationGroup. Within this group, the following codes were applied (1a) Relation-GroupDonor, (1b) Relation-Group-Local (1c) Relation-Group-Media and so on. The second kind of code was essentially used to determine the rationale behind that relationship. This did not necessarily mean that a real relationship existed, but what the interviewee thought about the one that s/he was referring to. The codes were grouped under the name (2) Relation-Rationale, and some of the codes that were used within this larger group are (2a) Relation-Rationale-­Complaint, (2b) RelationRationale-Assistance, (2c) Relation-Rationale-Power, and so on. The codes developed at this stage served the purpose of identifying that relations and how individuals make sense of these relations, matter, and affect the way they make decisions. They were mostly used for the analysis presented in chapter 7 where I discuss the relational logic.

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2nd Coding Cycle As discussed in Chapter 2, all the logics have multiple instantiations. The second cycle focused the attention on one of its possible instantiations, which I named “humanitarian logic.” In other words, I borrowed the framework for what is a logic, and I described how what I was looking, would look like within this framework. I defined the attributes of the humanitarian logic, for which I used the methodological arguments and theoretical considerations that Thornton (2004) used to produce the content of each of the building blocks of her instrument (the cells in the table in Appendix G).2 The main attributes of the institutional orders displayed in the Y-axis, “are grounded in the conventional nomenclature of social science empirical research, sociological, anthropological, archeological, psychological, political science, or economic concepts that assist the scholar in the comparative interpretation of cognition and practice within and across institutional orders” (Thornton et  al. 2012, p. 55). I chose to maintain the same set of attributes and developed a specific way in which those attributes present themselves in the western world. I grounded the process in the practice of humanitarian action and complemented it with the literature on disaster science, humanitarian studies, social science, and other disciplines. Thornton (2004) worked with ideal types. In this regard Swedberg and Agevall (2005) clarify that ideal types “can be described as a schematic representation of some configuration of social action” (p.  156), and continue to say that “once constructed, is confronted with empirical reality. As a result of this confrontation, the researcher will be able to handle the concrete empirical configuration and explain it” (p. 156). I followed this argument and used the attributes of the humanitarian logic as codes to identify the presence of the humanitarian logic across the data. These attributes of the humanitarian logic are presented below. The entire table, with the attributes of the remaining of the logics, is shown in Appendix G.3 This process was the same as the one that I was following during the second cycle described in the analysis of chapter 5. (Just to recap, during the second cycle, I decided to pause the process to analyze the existence of this new logic). The application of these codes and the data that was classified was later used to finalize the second cycle and produce the content of chapter five. The only difference is that in  For a full description of the methods I recommend reviewing the work of Thornton et al. 2012, Chapter 3 3  In many of the quotations presented in the remaining of the dissertation, a small table has been attached below it. This table lists the specific logics and the attributes that have been identified in it. It is important to highlight to in reality, in the same expression, or in a portion of an expression, many logics are used simultaneously so it could be the case that other attributes from the same logic or other logics in the table presented in Appendix G could be identified. The ones that have been listed in each quotation are those that facilitate the explanation of the major points of the section where they are discussed. In some other quotations, this table is omitted and a letter referencing the specific logic that was identified is included between parentheses. The nomenclature is as follows: (M) Market, (C) Corporation, (P) Profession, (S) State, (F) Family, (R) Religion, (Re) Relational, (H) Humanitarian. 2

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this “intermediate and parallel” coding cycle I used the coded data only to detect the presence of the humanitarian logic. Differently, to continue the second cycle of chapter five, the data was used in combination with the other six logics to study the impact of the now seven logics in humanitarian operations.

Attributes of the Western Humanitarian Logic Attributes Economic System

Humanitarian Logic Nonprofit Capitalism

Natural Effect of Symbolic Analogy Sources of Identity

Impacted Area as Service Delivery Area Commitment to Others

Sources of Legitimacy

Presumed Knowledge of the Local Humanitarian Space Intervention Force

Sources of Authority Basis of Norms Basis of Attention Basis of Strategy Learning Mechanisms

Willingness to Sacrifice Increase the Well-Being of the Other Field Experience

Attributes Informal Control Mechanisms Formal Control Mechanisms Forms of Ownership Organization Form

Humanitarian Logic Public Scrutiny

Delivery

Assistance

Peer Accountability Public

Network Organization Logic of Exchange Active Offering Logic of Capital Committed Investment to Visibility Management Style Determined Locally Main Motivation Paternalism

Chapter 6 Chapter five confirmed that an important part of the work of humanitarians is affected by the discrepancy that exists among humanitarians about the underlying ideal that drives humanitarian work. This ideal is essentially relational and has to do with the way humanitarian workers understand their relationship with other providers of relief, and with the recipients of that relief. During my trip to Mexico and the Caribbean, I noticed discrepancies between the value that humanitarian decision-makers and local actors assigned to the relationships with one another. This is indeed a major theme right now in humanitarian work, and this chapter contributes to that conversation. Although it was not what I originally set out to do, is a contribution to an important and current intellectual conversation. The analysis for this chapter was done through two consecutive inductive coding cycles of all available data, which included the interviews with humanitarian leaders and the interviews in the field and various notes that were taken. The rationale for using an inductive approach is that it allows “gaining direct information from study participants without imposing preconceived categories” (Hsieh and Shannon 2005, p. 1280).

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1st Coding Cycle The theory states that institutional logics are socially and historically constructed. Having in mind that the core of this dissertation is the humanitarian exchange that occurs between international actors and recipients of aid, which involves the relationship between them, the first coding cycle was designed to study how inter-institutional systems of both collectives relate to one another in the aftermath of a humanitarian disaster. The coding scheme was applied to the transcripts of the interviews with humanitarian leaders, as well as to all the data that was collected during the field trips. The codes were inductively defined to capture the essence of the relationship between both collectives. Being this so, the passages in the transcript, as well as the notes from the field that contained expression about what each of these two collectives felt about the other, were coded. I also used an important portion of the codes that were developed for the analysis that is presented in chapter seven4 to study the relational logic. In this cycle, I also focused the attention on identifying pieces of data that referred to the contexts that each of the collectives experienced. This idea was born out of the many expressions that my interviewees and the people that I met during my trip used, to describe how their “normal” way of life had been impacted by the disaster. This was an indication that the forces that generate those changes in the lives of individuals could generate a reprioritization of the logics. This aspect of the analysis was not a part of the original proposal, but I considered it important to study if and how the relationship between humanitarians and the people they serve changes. 2nd Coding Cycle Shortly after starting this first coding cycle, I had numerous classified pieces of data that could be used to understand how each collective feel about the other, and to understand how those feelings change after a disaster. The data also pointed to the possibility that institutional systems do not relate the same way during a disaster, as they do in times of “blue sky,” the way that humanitarian refers to the space in time when there is no crisis. This led me to design a second coding cycle that is presented below. Even though this was the second cycle, the analysis aimed at understanding the forces that affect the relationship between institutional systems during a disaster.

 Be aware of the sequence of analysis. In the dissertation, the order of the chapters 5, 6, and 7 do not coincide with the sequence of the analysis. As shown in figure 3, the analysis of chapter 7 took place before the analysis of chapter 6, and that is why the analysis is presented before this section. 4

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Limitations of the Study As explained in the first chapter, the largest portion of this book contains personal reflections and views that I acquired through many years of experience. There are also some small portions that contain findings from my doctoral research, and it is important to recognize that all studies have limits, including this one. To start with, the research findings that inform those sections are not generalizable to the entire humanitarian sector, as they reflect the views and understanding of a very small and purposefully chosen number of humanitarian leaders and disaster victims. Additionally, given that the sample was not randomly selected, it is possible that the findings may change if the same analysis is performed using data collected from different participants. Nonetheless, the research was conducted until saturation was reached. The study focused mostly on the impact of institutional logics in the life of humanitarian decision-makers from the western/northern world. Additionally, even though the research focused on leaders from the largest humanitarian organizations. The strategy, consequently, does not allow us to draw important conclusions about other sectors of the western humanitarian space, let alone the non-western humanitarian space. The findings, consequently, are also not generalizable, nor are they representative of the entire humanitarian sector. On a similar line of thought, this research only considered leaders from “traditional” humanitarian organizations, which are by default those with many years of trajectory in the field. It did not include other organizations that are growing in recognition and coverage. The logics’ influence on other groups of experts, such as the private sector or the government, is still unclear. The research also suffers from the natural limitations of qualitative methods. To start with, it is heavily dependent on the researcher’s skills. In this particular case, for instance, the definition of how the attributes of each institutional logic (Thornton 2004) express themselves in the data was influenced by my interpretation, and other scholars might disagree with it. The data collected through the field trips, also have some limitations. Due to time constraints and resource/logistical limitations, the trip was made in only a few weeks. It was organized with the support of the International Federation of the Red Cross (IFRC). Consequently, I could not visit as many communities and engage with the local population as extensively as I had wished. More work should also be done to understand the logics of those suffering the disaster’s impact.

Money Products & Services

Efficiency

Public M-Form Organization Personal Career Advancement Capital Committed to Firm

Knowledge Expertise & Values

Internal and External Peer Review Private Network Organization Indebtedness and Reciprocity Capital Committed to Nexus of Relationships Individual Skillset

Representation Control

Public Legal Bureaucracy Political Power Capital Committed to Public Policy Bureaucratic Processes

Enforcement of Legislation

Board and Management Authority

Extracted from Thornton 2004

Main Motivation Delivery

Management Style

Informal Control Mechanisms Formal Control Mechanisms Forms of Ownership Organization Form Logic of Exchange Logic of Investment

Learning Mechanisms

Enforcement of Regulation Public Marketplace Immediate Best Bargain Capital Committed to Market Self-Regulated / Gov. Intervention Equilibrium Equilibrium

Self-Interest Status Position in Market Increase Efficiency of Transactions Competition Prices

Basis of Norms Basis of Attention

Industry Analysts

Share Price Shareholder Activism

Sources of Legitimacy Sources of Authority

Basis of Strategy

Faceless

Profession State Personal Capitalism Welfare Capitalism Profession as Relational Network State as Redistribution Mechanism Bureaucratic Roles Personal Reputation Social Class Quantity of Production Quality of Innovation Political Ideology Market Position of Firm Personal Expertise Democratic Participation Board of Directors Professional Association Bureaucratic Domination Management Political Parties Employment in Firm Membership in Guild Citizenship in Nation Status Position in Hierarchy Status Position in Network Status Position of Interest Group Increase Size and Diversification of Increase Personal Reputation and Increase Community Good Firm Quality of Craft Competition Training and Routines Cooperation Apprenticing Popular Opinion Subunit of Firm Relational Network Leadership Organization Culture Celebrity Professional Backroom Politics

Corporation Managerial Capitalism Corporation as Hierarchy

Market Market Capitalism Market as Transaction

Key Characteristics Economic System Natural Effect of Symbolic Analogy Sources of Identity

Institutional Logics of Societal Sectors

142 Appendix: Methods

Informal Control Mechanisms Formal Control Mechanisms Forms of Ownership Organization Form Logic of Exchange Logic of Investment Management Style Main Motivation Delivery

Learning Mechanisms

Basis of Norms Basis of Attention Basis of Strategy

Sources of Legitimacy Sources of Authority

Key Characteristics Economic System Natural Effect of Symbolic Analogy Sources of Identity

Rules of Inheritance and Succession Private Family Partnership Family Power Capital Committed to Household Informal Processes Perpetuation Love

Family Politics

Public Scrutiny

Field Experience

Intervention Force Position Relative to Someone in Need Increase Well-Being of the Other

Humanitarian Nonprofit Capitalism Impacted Area as Service Delivery Area Commitment to Others and Willingness to Sacrifice Presumed Knowledge of the Local Humanitarian Space

Private Religious Congregation Office Hierarchy As Sign of God’s Grace Capital Committed to Enterprise of Salvation Determined by Priesthood Guidance Faith

Public Network Organization Active Offering Capital Committed to Visibility Determined Locally Paternalism Assistance

Rationalization of Usury & Norms of Taboos Peer Accountability

Occupational and Vocational Association with Deities Importance of Magic in Economy Personal Charisma of Prophet Power and Status of Priesthood Membership in Congregation Relation of Individual to Supernatural Forces Increase Magical Symbolism of Natural Events Analogy and Parable Formulae of Prayer Routinization of Preaching Worship of Calling

Family Reputation Father-Son Relations Unconditional Loyalty Patriarchal Domination

Membership in Household Communism of Household Increase Family Honor, Security, and Solidarity Sponsorship

Religion Occidental Capitalism Temple as Bank

Family Personal Capitalism Family as Firm

Appendix: Methods 143

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Index

C Convergence, 12, 15–37, 44–46, 59, 64–70, 73, 78, 87, 89, 98, 109, 113, 115, 117–119, 122, 127, 129, 130 Coping mechanisms, 105–107 Culture, 9, 18, 37, 43, 45, 52, 59, 61–64, 78, 98, 101, 102, 115, 118, 120, 142 D Disaster, 1, 3, 4, 6–8, 10, 11, 13, 15–17, 19–26, 28–33, 35, 36, 38, 43, 44, 46–55, 58, 59, 61–70, 73, 75, 76, 78, 79, 82, 84–87, 93–111, 113, 115–120, 122, 123, 127–130, 138, 140, 141 Disaster scholarship, 7 E East Timor, 4, 8, 10, 12, 93–99 Emergency management, 69, 75, 122–124 Evolution, 20, 58–64, 68, 73, 89, 96, 108, 132 H Humanitarian action, 1, 3–10, 12, 13, 15, 18–25, 27, 30, 34–37, 46, 50, 57, 59, 62, 64, 67–70, 74, 75, 78, 80, 87, 89, 96, 103, 109, 113–124, 138

Humanitarian assistance, 17, 35 Humanitarian deployments, 5, 30, 87, 102, 113, 116, 127 Humanitarian interventions, 6, 8, 10, 13, 17, 22, 25, 26, 30–32, 86, 113–115 Humanitarian needs, 25 Humanitarian relations, 7, 68, 90 Humanitarian scholarship, 7 Humanitarian space, 11, 18, 22, 27, 33, 55, 59, 67–70, 75, 78, 82–84, 87, 89, 90, 97, 110, 114–116, 118–121, 134, 136, 139, 141, 143 I Institutional demands, 100 Institutional humanitarianism, 73–90 Institutional logics, 8–13, 53, 55, 62, 77–88, 98, 101–104, 108, 110, 111, 113–116, 118, 120, 121, 127, 128, 130, 131, 133–136, 140–143 Institutional theory, 53, 62, 79, 87, 88 International humanitarian action, 4, 5, 7–9, 48, 49, 98 International intervention, 76 M Materialization, 58–61, 63, 64, 68, 76, 77, 98, 106

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 D. Otegui, A Symbolic Approach to Humanitarian Action, Contemporary Humanitarian Action and Emergency Management, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16986-1

153

154

Index

R Relations, 7, 20, 53, 64, 68, 88–90, 106, 129, 134–137, 143

Symbolic constructions, 8, 9, 12, 13, 21, 26, 33, 50, 62, 69, 74, 82–85, 87–89, 98, 101–103, 108, 118, 124, 127, 128

S Symbolic attraction, 103–104, 107, 110, 111

V Value system, 37, 38, 43–47, 78